


The Space Between

by madamebomb



Series: The Smoke Demons Series [5]
Category: Avatar: The Last Airbender
Genre: Angst, F/M, Sokkla angst, seeeexxxy times
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-03
Updated: 2018-01-15
Packaged: 2019-02-27 22:43:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 9
Words: 32,159
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13258143
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/madamebomb/pseuds/madamebomb
Summary: After being sent to safety by Zuko, Iroh, Azula and an injured Sokka seek refuge at the Southern Water Tribe. As Sokka and Azula try to figure out their relationship, an old enemy arrives, seeking vengeance. Set after Addicted to Love, sequel to Bonfire Heart.





	1. One

Her first impression of the South Pole was that it looked very white. From the buildings to the snow, to the landscape, to the icebergs floating in the large gray-colored bay spreading out beneath them, the Southern Water Tribe was overwhelmingly, blindingly, glaringly _white._

It hurt Azula's eyes to look at it, but the more she looked the more she realized that the whites were dappled by grays and blues, purples, and pinks and every color of the rainbow as the unrelenting white caught the reflection of everything around it. She blinked, dazzled and impressed despite herself, as the landscape steadily rose up to meet them.

She stood at the airship's carriage window, hands on the cold glass, staring out at this foreign landscape with her heart in her throat. When they bumped into the snowy ground, it jarred the entire carriage, causing her to sway on her feet. She automatically looked over at the sleeping figure stretched out on one of the benches.

Sokka snorted awake with a start and blinked, confused for a moment. Then he groaned and tried to sit up.

“Where are we?” he mumbled as she started over to him, putting a hand on his chest to stop him.

“The South Pole,” her Uncle Iroh announced happily as he killed the fire in the balloon's iron belly. “It seems that my sense of direction is still impressively accurate!”

“We got lost twice,” Azula mumbled under her breath. Sokka managed a weak grin.

“But we got here,” he said wearily, taking her hand. “We weren't followed?”

“I don't think so,” she said, glancing at Iroh, who had eyed them and then turned away, busying himself with their packs.

“Good, because I don't know if I'm up for a fight just yet,” Sokka said, tossing the blanket draped over him aside as he sat up, swinging his injured leg off of the bench. The wound from Osamu's crossbow stained the white bandages wrapped around his hairy, muscular thigh a deep, alarming red. She was worried that he was more hurt than he was letting on, even though Zuko's ancient crone of a healer had told them that he would recover from the wound.

Still, she wished that she had done more to Osamu for hurting himthan just burnt his face off. Especially for what he had done to Ty Lee, who might even now be dead or dying. She felt a sudden surge of resentment about being sent away, and not for the first time since her brother had packed the three of them off into this airship. She felt like Zuko had rejected her, for all that he had had his reasons. Reasons she might have understood, if she hadn't just spent the last year fighting to save his life, only to be tossed out on her ass the moment Zuko didn't need her.

“I can protect you,” she said softly to Sokka, looking up into his blue eyes. Sokka's smile was slow, his gaze knowing. A million things sat between them all at once, and she caught her breath as he rubbed his thumb across the back of her hand.

“I know you can,” he replied and lifted her hand to his mouth. He kissed the palm of her hand, over an old scar there. She felt tingles go through her, from head to toe. She wanted nothing more than to sink her hand into his shoulder-length hair, to pull him close and get lost in the sensation of his hungry mouth against hers.

Instead, she slowly pulled her hand away, glancing out the window at the small entourage making their way across the snow toward them. The people were wearing blue furs, carrying weapons and a torch that guttered in the wind. Sokka followed her gaze.

“We have company,” he said with a grunt, standing and hobbling over to the door. She tried to stop him, but he flung the carriage door open and waved at the men, calling them by name as they got close enough for him to recognize. A biting, bitter wind cleaved through the carriage, making Azula shiver, pulling her arms around her chest.

The chill southern air was certainly different from the heat wave the Fire Nation had been enduring when they'd left. She stoked her chi, and felt heat flush through her body, spreading like alcohol along her extremities and banishing the chill despite her summer-weight clothing.

“Who are you? What are you doing here?” one of the men called as they approached the carriage. They were looking at Sokka suspiciously, despite the fact that he'd called them by name.

Sokka laughed a little and pulled his hair back from his face. “It's me, Sokka. You don't recognize me Gongan?”

The man called Gongan did a double-take and looked Sokka up and down. “ _Sokka?_ Spirits, you don't look half-dead, do you?”

“I feel even worse,” Sokka said heavily. “Could you tell my father I've arrived? And send for a Healer? Or Malina, if she's with Dad.”

“I think there's a story here, isn't there?” Gongan said, and then whistled appreciatively as he glanced at Sokka's bandaged, bared leg and at Azula behind Sokka's arm. The man's bushy salt-and-pepper eyebrows lifted.

“Full of thrilling heroics and stunning acts of derring-do, I assure you,” Sokka grunted as Gongan laughed and then gestured to his men, who went to work securing the balloon down by its dangling stakes. Gongan took off without another word, heading back toward the white buildings that seemed to have sprung up out of the snow like giant white teeth.

Sokka said something to the men securing the balloon down, and then turned to face her, a small smile on his lips. When he saw the nervous expression on her face, he paused and peered at her for a moment. “It's okay, you'll like my dad. He's really nice.”

A nice father? She didn't even know what that might mean. She hadn't seen her own father in years, and had no intention of it, and yet here Sokka was, eager to see his after months away. She couldn't imagine the feeling.

Iroh came up then, lugging all three packs behind him, and beaming widely, despite the tightness around his eyes. “I have not seen Hakoda since his last visit to Ba Sing Se several years ago. It will be good to meet with old friends in such dire circumstances.”

She knew that Iroh had been putting on a brave face the entire flight from the Fire Nation to the South Pole, to keep up Sokka's spirits, or perhaps hers. She knew that her uncle was worried sick over Zuko, and didn't like that Zuko had sent them away when there were so many unknown dangers and enemies in the palace out to kill him.

She knew how he felt.

It wasn't long before the man called Gongan came back, leading a small procession to the airship. She thought the man at the front of the pack looked familiar, as his blue gaze swept over the airship and then centered on Sokka, now standing in the door of the carriage again. She knew him as Sokka's father; she had seen him before, back during the war. But even if she hadn't, she would have known him instantly; the resemblance between father and son was uncanny. They had the same bright, sharp gaze and dusky skin. Even the way he held himself reminded her of Sokka. This man was not only a warrior, but there was authority in his bearing, and good humor behind his serious expression.

Hakoda surveyed them and then put his hands on his hips.

“I knew your sister was lying,” he said with some amusement, shaking his head. “What kind of trouble are in you in, son?”

“Oh, you know me, old man,” Sokka said easily, hobbling out into the snow and clasping his father's forearm. “If I'm not causing trouble, then what's the point?”

“Damn good to see you, Sokka. I've been worried sick and your sister's letters have been aggravatingly vague,” Hakoda said gruffly and then pulled Sokka in for a tight, one arm hug that Sokka returned with interest. Something in Sokka's body changed. He sagged a little, as if letting out a sigh of relief. Or maybe he just suddenly felt safe, in a way that he hadn't for months.

He was home.

Azula turned away from the sight of Sokka's homecoming, turning to Iroh, who was watching the two men with a strange expression on his face. When she took one of the packs from his hand, Iroh met her gaze for the first time since they started their journey.

“Zuko's going to be okay,” she found herself saying. “I know he will.”

Iroh looked surprised at that, but just nodded. “I know.” She turned away again, but Iroh caught her elbow. “I think we should talk, Princess Azula.”

She felt her stomach plummet at that, but nodded anyway. She couldn't imagine what she and her uncle could talk about. The last time they had seen one another seemed to sit between them like a stone. It wasn't a happy memory.

She had been sick—mentally, physically, emotionally—and so desperate and lost that she had found herself at his doorstep before she'd even realized that her feet had led her straight to his home in Ba Sing Se. He had let her in, welcomed her, in fact, and she had repaid his kindness by sleeping for three days straight, barely speaking, eating, and refusing to answer his questions about where she had been, and what was wrong with her.

She hadn't been able to find the words, to tell him what had happened to her in the forest months before, about the abortion, the infection that had nearly killed her on the road to Ba Sing Se, what the healers had told her, about any of it. So she had said nothing, and he had cared for her.

The moment she had felt strong enough, she had left, without a thank you, without a backward glance. He had let her go. She had always been so sure that Iroh had been relieved to see the back of her. She had never had plans to see him again, and now here he was, looking at her with understanding in his eyes.

She didn't know how to feel.

“Not right now, okay?” she said, looking away from his kind and caring eyes—eyes she had never seen turned on her with anything but wariness and disapproval. She turned back to Sokka, just as he and Hakoda broke apart, still clasping each other's hands. Hakoda's grin was genuine as he turned it on first her, and then Iroh.

“General Iroh! It's been too long,” Hakoda said, as Iroh bowed to him. Hakoda returned the bow as Iroh's dark expression flitted away into one of congenial delight again.

“And a pleasure it is to see you as well, Chief Hakoda,” her uncle said. “But I wish it were under better circumstances.”

Hakoda's smile froze as he glanced from Sokka to Iroh, and then settled on Azula. Sokka followed his gaze and started.

“Oh! Dad, this is Princess Azula of the Fire Nation. Azula, this is my father, Chief Hakoda,” Sokka said stiffly, glancing nervously from her to his father and back again.

Hakoda blinked at the sound of her name and something in his jaw tightened. “I see. Well...welcome to the Southern Water Tribe, Princess Azula.”

There was something cold in Hakoda's voice, and it was unmistakable. Sokka's brows drew down low and he opened his mouth to say something, but the Healer, a woman with short reddish hair, stepped up to Sokka and bent to look at his leg.

“Stitched?” she said by way of greeting, as Sokka looked down at her.

“Yeah. Zuko's healers are pretty good, but well, they're not Waterbenders. Think you can give me a little hit of that sweet, sweet magic water, Malina?”

“I'll need to look at it first,” the woman named Malina—Azula remembered that Sokka had mentioned he had a stepmother named that—stood up and gestured to the two men who had followed she and Hakoda to the airship. One of the men was holding a stretcher made of leather stretched over a metal frame.

“I can walk, I don't need to be on a stretcher,” Sokka said gruffly, but something in Malina's eyes brooked no argument.

“And if you rip those stitches it'll take twice as long for me to heal you, so shut up,” the woman said, her hands on her hips. Sokka looked between her and Hakoda and then sheepishly glanced at Azula, his cheeks burning in the cold.

“Fine, but only because I'm lazy and like to be carried around,” Sokka said with a flourish of his hands. Something of his good cheer was coming back, surrounded by his family and friends. It was the hints of his good humor and goofy nature that had drawn Azula to him in the first place. Though they had been through hell together, Sokka had made it bearable for the both of them, just by being himself.

 _Spirits, I'm that far gone,_ Azula mused as she watched the two men load up Sokka and carry him toward the town. She followed behind them as Iroh and Hakoda fell into step, speaking as old friends. She felt out of place all of a sudden, in her fire red clothing that marked her as an outsider to everyone who peered out of their frosted up windows at them.

She hefted her pack higher, wincing as the half-healed cut across her back came alive all of a sudden. Perhaps it was the cold, reawakening the old wound. Whatever the case, it soured what little good mood she'd had—not that she'd had much to begin with—and it put her on edge because it made her think of Rinchaka Falls, and the explosion that had ripped the air apart that day. She had gotten the wound from debris during the explosion.

Even now, as her boots crunched through the gritty, glittering snow, following in her Uncle's heavy footsteps, she could hear the faintest screams in her ears. She thought she smelled smoke, charred flesh, blood...and burning pine... Her breath steamed before her and she shivered, squeezing her eyes shut for a moment.

 _It's not real,_ she told herself, putting her hand over her heart so that she could feel it beating beneath her palm like a drum. _It's not real, and I'm here. This is real and the screaming is just a memory... That's all it is... It can't hurt me... It's in my stupid head..._

The beating of her heart steadied her, gave her something to focus on as her feet crunched through the snow. She took a deep breath, the sounds and smells fading back into the aether, leaving behind only the smell of oil smoke, snow, and leather. It was a series of scents she associated with Sokka, and she breathed it in deeply, letting it wrap around her.

It didn't take long for them to reach a stretch of domed homes set on the outskirts of the village. The snow here was well-trampled, with yellow lights burning in the little windows and smoke rising from the chimneys. She realized the houses were made of massive blocks of snow, and not just covered in the stuff. It was beautiful and completely foreign to her eyes. She couldn't imagine living in one of these homes would be warm.

What did the people of the Southern Water Tribe do to keep warm all day, she wondered? But when a large pack of laughing, giggling children came chasing after a penguin at the end of the shoveled street, honking at it and sliding on their stomachs, she was pretty sure she had her answer, and it wasn't penguin sledding.

Amused, she realized that they were heading toward a darkened home, the front path drifted over, unlike the others nearby. Hakoda opened the front door and the little party walked inside. Azula followed, wondering whose home this was, but when she walked in, the question fled her mind completely.

Sokka.

Everywhere she looked, there were touches of Sokka's personality. From the thick white furs on the floor, to the comfortable but solid furniture, the soft blues and browns, the weapons on the walls, the rich, masculine textures, and the warmth... Sokka's warmth filled the room like firelight, despite the fact that the place had clearly been closed up for some time.

She shut the thick wooden door, and turned back to face the room, a small smile playing on her lips as the others helped Sokka down onto a dark blue sofa. He propped his leg up with a groan as Hakoda piled wood into the fireplace. Iroh lit the fire, and light bounced around the room, warm and soft.

Azula stared at the wooden walls and ceiling. She had expected the inside to be made of blocks of snow as well, but the blocks were merely the outer shell of the whole thing, braced on this wooden structure beneath. She studied the room as Sokka's stepmother peeled off Sokka's bandages, examining the wound from Osamu's crossbow bolt.

“It's already healing, but this should help,” she said, and a blue glow under-lit her face as she pulled water from a drinking horn at her waist and set it over the wound. Sokka's sigh of relief was audible.

“Thanks,” he said and relaxed.

The other men said their goodbyes and left through the front door, leaving Sokka, Iroh, Hakoda, Malina and Azula alone. Hakoda had perched on the edge of a carved chair with brown leather cushions, and Iroh was sitting in a dark blue chair with his feet outstretched toward the fire. He looked perfectly at ease, his fingers woven together over his expansive belly.

“So are you going to tell me what happened, or do I have to drag the truth out of you?” Hakoda asked after a long pause, the dry wood popping into the silence as the fire grew. “Where have you been? I must have asked your sister a million times, but she only said you were doing something important, and that she couldn't talk about it—not even to me. I've been out of my mind with worry ever since.”

“It's a long story, Dad, and I'm kind of not up for talking about it right now. I'm exhausted. Can it wait until tomorrow?”

Hakoda glanced at Azula and then back at his son. “Of course, but I _do_ want answers eventually. Especially about this new look of yours.”

Sokka's hands drifted to his hair and the stubble on his jaw. His red sleeves hid the fake tattoos on his skin, but Azula knew how different he looked. She had gotten used to his Tazeo disguise, but it was jarring to the people who knew him. She'd seen that first hand with Zuko and Suki. Even Mai had done a double-take, and yet none of them had seen him truly step into his Tazeo identity.

They didn't know how different he could be, how cold and crude and ruthless. It made shivers run down her spine to remember those moments. There had been moments when the seam between the two men had been so blurred that it had confused her.

And that had put Sokka's life in danger.

“I promise, I'll tell you everything. Just...not tonight.”

“Okay, Sokka.”

Azula turned away from the four of them and let her eyes wander around the room again, landing on a shelf that was piled high with books and scrolls. She walked over and examined it. Books on mathematics, science, history, religion, mechanics, geology, astronomy... Maps and law books and poetry and art. She grabbed a scroll and unrolled it, studying the schematic inside. She had no idea what she was looking at; some kind of a machine, obviously, but she knew the hand in which it had been drawn, and the messy scrawl of Sokka's lettering in the margins.

He had made this, whatever this was. Invented it, perhaps. Or perfected it. She felt something swell in her chest. He was brilliant. She had always known that—and resented it, once upon a time.

She remembered all too well her first encounters with the Avatar and his band of do-gooders, back when she had done everything in her power to please her father, to prove herself worthy. She had conquered cities and armadas...she had been fearless and confident. But not where Sokka of the Water Tribe had been concerned. She had seen him as a threat from the start. A non-Bender, with the mind of a tactician, an inventor, a born leader. He was wholly unpredictable.

Sokka had been a threat to her in a way even the Avatar hadn't been and she had known that even back then.

 _Or maybe it was just because I thought he was hot_ , she chided herself, putting the scroll back on the shelf. Her gaze followed the curve of the wall, past a small kitchen area with a black iron cook stove, a water pump and a small copper boiler, cabinets full of crockery, and a table and chairs. There was another door in the wall, covered over by thick furs.

She glanced around and realized it must have led to the bedroom. When she looked around, she met Sokka's gaze. He had been watching her examining his things. A little smile played on his lips.

“How did you get hurt?” Malina asked, looking up from her healing of his wound.

“Crossbow bolt. Again, long story. Have you heard any news out of the Fire Nation?”

Hakoda shook his head. “The last news I heard was some bit of fluff about the Fire Lord having some sort of ball or a dance or something to find a wife,” Hakoda said and then licked his lips, glancing at Sokka's face nervously. “There...uh...have been other rumors, as well.”

Sokka groaned and leaned his head back on the pillows, one hand covering his eyes. “I'm about sick of hearing those rumors.”

“So that's all they are?” Hakoda asked tightly.

“Uh...” Sokka lowered his hand and glanced at Azula. “Well, sort of. And sort of not. I don't really want to get into that right now, Dad.”

“Uh-huh,” Hakoda said, his gaze drifting to Azula and back to his son, his lips pressing into a scowl that was nearly identical to the one Sokka made when he was about to call someone out on their bullshit. It was pretty uncanny, actually. “Well, it seems you've been on quite the adventure.”

“You can say that again. I promise, tomorrow I'll tell you everything. Right now, I just want some food, a bath and a warm mattress. Can Iroh stay with you? I don't have the room here.”

“Unless it's inconvenient--” Iroh started, but Hakoda waved him off.

“Of course. It would be my pleasure. And uh... Princess Azula...we'd be honored to have you as a guest as well. Sokka doesn't have a lot of room at his place. Unless you're sleeping on the couch?”

“She's not sleeping on the couch, Dad,” Sokka said pointedly, while Azula's face flamed.

Hakoda's scowl deepened at that and she saw her Uncle's knuckles whiten. “I thought not. It seems you really do have a story to tell me, son.”

“Tomorrow,” Sokka insisted, rubbing at his temple.

“Of course,” Hakoda said easily, but she could see the gears working in the man's lined blue eyes. She had the distinct impression that Sokka's father did not approve.

“So am I going to lose this leg or what?” Sokka joked, trying to break the tension, but there was a tightness in his eyes that told Azula he was worried about that very thing. His stepmother bent the water back into the horn at her belt and then studied the wound for a moment.

“No, it'll heal fine. A few days rest and you'll be as good as new, with a fancy new scar to brag about,” Malina said, wiping her hands on her thick blue pants. She eyed the scar along Sokka's hairline and leaned up, brushing her thumb against it. “That's new, too.”

“Yeah, a coal mine fell on me,” he said and then met Azula's gaze. “I could have died, but Azula saved my life.”

“Did she now?” Hakoda said, peering at her and not with warmth. Sokka's father sighed through his nose and then stood. “I think Malina and I will go rustle up something to eat for the three of you. I'm sure you're hungry after your journey. Iroh, we'll show you to one of our guest rooms.”

“That sounds wonderful, thank you,” Iroh said, climbing to his feet and grabbing his pack. But it was Azula that Sokka's father was looking at. His look of narrow-eyed suspicion was hard to miss.

“Princess, you could stay in Katara's room if--”

“Azula's staying with me,” Sokka said easily, before she could answer. Or even begin to answer.

Hakoda appraised his son, but his look was inscrutable. At least to Azula it was.

“You're an adult. It's none of my business. There have just been a lot of rumors lately, that's all,” he said as he gestured toward the door. Malina and Iroh followed him toward it.

“Don't I know it,” Sokka intoned. “We'll talk about this stuff later. After I eat and sleep for a week.”

“I'll send something over,” Hakoda said and glanced at Azula once more. “We'll talk tomorrow.”

Sokka shot his father a weary gesture of acknowledgment, rubbing at his eyes. The three of them left then, Iroh catching her eye and nodding before ducking out into the cold, whipping wind.

The door closed behind them, leaving them alone for the first time in days. They hadn't been alone since they'd been down in Zuko's dungeon.

And he had kissed her and told her he loved her then.

That moment had been playing in her mind the whole journey across the skies to the South Pole. Had he really meant it? Or did he just think he meant it?

She found she couldn't be sure. Or maybe she just couldn't bring herself to believe that he did, that he could love her. Because if he loved her...truly loved her...the way that she loved him...

Then she wasn't just confused. She was _terrified._


	2. Two

It was strange being home, not the least because it no longer felt entirely like home to him. And he didn't feel like himself either.

Sokka stared into the mirror over the sink, his weight on his good leg. He looked very different than he had the last time he'd looked into this mirror. There were lines beneath his eyes that hadn't been there before, but it wasn't the signs of stress from what he and Azula had endured that made him look like a stranger to his own eyes.

It was Tazeo. The dead man's identity still hung on his bones like a second skin, and he wanted nothing more than to cast him off, to bury the man for good.

Steam rose from the basin of hot water before him. He clutched the straight razor in his hand, a pair of shears in the other. He stared into his own eyes for a long moment, and then flicked his gaze to the door.

Azula had come into the room, her long hair tumbled over one shoulder. She leaned against the doorway and met his eyes in the steamed up mirror.

“What's wrong?” she asked him, her own golden honey eyes dancing in the light of the oil lamp.

“I don't know,” he lied, shrugging as he looked away. Azula came up beside him and took the shears from his hand, turning him with a gentle touch on his bare shoulder.

“You're not him. You were never him. You've always been Sokka to me,” she said, lifting her hand to run it through his long, thick hair. “It's about time you remembered that, too.”

“Cutting my hair and shaving isn't going to do it, though,” he said, wiping a hand down his face. “I know I'm not him, but I did things as him that...it seems like there's not a difference. It's hard to put that aside. I don't even know if I should.”

“I know how you feel, Sokka.”

He looked up and searched her face for a long moment. “I guess it's up to us to decide who we want to be. Who do you want to be, Azula?”

“I wish I knew,” she said and her smile was soft and sad as she stood up on tiptoe and pressed a fleeting kiss across his lips. When she pulled back, her eyes were sad. “But I think it's time you were _you_ again.”

He nodded and bit down on the inside of his lip as she ran her fingers through his damp hair, and then took the shears to it. He closed his eyes and relaxed. He trusted her completely.

She cut his hair to chin-length, then, at his instruction, gathered half of it into a topknot. She sheared the rest of his hair down to stubble, and then took the straight razor to it. That done, she started on his face, removing the scrum of beard he had been keeping trimmed down to a coarse stubble for months. She was gentle with the razor, far gentler than he would have been, her movements sure and steady.

Cool air swirled against his shaved head and face as she wiped the foamy soap away with a towel. A little smile hit her lips as she examined her work. He fought the urge to surge forward and kiss the smile from the lush corners of her lips. She looked soft and warm in the forgiving light.

“This is a stupid haircut, you know,” she said, putting down the razor on the sink.

“It's sexy,” he protested, glancing in the mirror. He ran his hands over his shaved scalp.

“It's stupid. It suits you,” she said, pursing her lips.

“Has anyone ever told you that you're kinda mean?” he shot at her with a wink.

“No, they usually just call me a bitch. They're not wrong.”

“Yes, they are,” he said affectionately, swooping down and kissing her. He meant it to be a playful kiss, but it didn't stay that way for more than a split second. Before he knew it, Azula was wrapped around him, his hands in her long, dark hair, her warm body pressed tightly to his. Her kiss was blistering and all-consuming and it shook him to his core.

When they broke apart, both of them panting for air, he let out a soft laugh and said with feeling, “ _Damn_. What was that for?”

“I need a reason to kiss you?” she replied, looking up at him through her thick lashes. It was such an innocently coquettish look. It made him lightheaded.

“Definitely not,” he said, sliding his hands down her shoulders and resting them on her lower back. He pulled her closer and nuzzled her mouth with his own.

“Come on...let's go to bed...” Azula said, taking his hand and for a moment, his heart leaped, thinking she had meant something else, but when she settled into his fur-draped bed and snuggled down, he let out a sigh. She looked up at him curiously. “What's wrong?”

“Nothing,” he said easily, climbing in beside her. He curled up around her and pulled her back against his chest, his mouth to her ear. Azula sank into his embrace, pulling his arm around her waist and tangling their fingers. “So, what do you think?”

“About what?” Azula asked, half-turning her head so that he could see the glitter of her eyes.

“My house. The South Pole. My dad,” he said with a half-shrug as he rubbed the palm of her hand with his thumb.

“It's cold here, but it's kind of beautiful,” she said with a soft smile. “I can see why you love it.”

“You can?”

“Yeah. Don't sound so surprised,” she said, bumping her elbow back into his ribs. She stilled the next moment, however and then said haltingly, “I don't think your father likes me much.”

Sokka paused for a moment and then said, “Well, he doesn't know you. Yet. I think he was a little shocked at our relationship, but once he gets used to it, he'll warm up. I know he will.”

“Relationship?”

Sokka nuzzled her ear. “What else would you call this?”

Instead of answering, she tightened her hold on his hand and then asked, “Are Suki and your father close?”

Sokka pulled a pained face. “Uhh... Yeah, they were. _Are._ Umm. He's pretty fond of her. He kept telling me to marry her.” He winced. “Forget I said that.”

Azula went very still against him. “Why _didn't_ you ever marry her? You were together for so long.”

“We don't have to talk about this, Azula,” he started, but she half-turned to face him again, rolling against his chest and staring at him in the glow of the warm fireplace.

“I know, but I'm curious.”

Sokka studied her face for a long moment and then sighed. “I don't know. I don't know why I never proposed. I could have. I almost did, a few times. Aang, Katara, my dad... They were all on me to marry her, but I could just never bring myself to do it. It never seemed like the right time, and the last few years...there was just this huge gulf between us. I don't know.”

“Did the two of you ever discuss it?”

“Umm...well, I brought it up once, the one and only time Suki came down here to visit. It was right after I build this place and moved out of Dad and Malina's. Suki kind of hates the weather down here, so she never visited much, which I guess should have been a big red flag, in retrospect, that maybe we weren't destined to work out... But anyway, she came to visit, and I told her that I planned to settle here eventually and stop moving back and forth between here and Republic City.”

“What did she say?”

“Nothing. She looked panicked and changed the subject,” Sokka said and then huffed out a little laugh. “I let it slide, because...well, it's not like I was asking her to marry me right then. And it just didn't seem like the right time. It was never the right time for us.”

He felt sadness flood him and was surprised by it for only a moment, before a deep acceptance followed. His breakup with Suki had hurt, but not as much as it would have before he had fallen in love Azula. He missed Suki, and he was worried sick for her at the moment, but their breakup hadn't been affecting him nearly as much as he'd thought it might.

Which told him everything, really.

“Do you regret breaking up with her? You haven't really talked about it since.”

“No,” he said honestly, reaching up and brushing Azula's hair out of her face. He met her eyes and smiled a little. “I'm exactly where I want to be, with the woman I want to be with.”

Something flickered in Azula's eyes, even as she smiled and then leaned up, pressing a searing hot kiss to his lips that banished everything from his turbulent heart.

There was only Azula.

When they pulled apart, his heart was racing and so was hers. She caressed his face for a moment, staring at him in the flickering light from the fire. He felt emotion swell in him. He didn't know why, but seeing her there, in his bed, his home... It felt right to him. Like she belonged there.

Or maybe he just wanted her to.

“I think we'd better sleep, Sokka,” she whispered with a shake in her voice that he wondered at. What was going through her head?

“Goodnight, my Princess.”

* * *

 

A familiar noise shook Sokka from a deep and mercifully dreamless sleep. He instantly came alert, his eyes flying open to a room filled with the gentle, warm glow from the banked stone hearth build into the round walls. Familiar walls.

Home. He was home.

“No...”

Shaking the last of sleep from his bleary eyes, he reached for Azula thrashing in the bed beside him. In the light of the fire, he could see that she had kicked off the warm fur blankets, her head thrashing on the pillow, her face a rictus of tortured pain.

His heart clenched as he wrapped one arm around her, pulling her close as the nightmare threatened to build into a scream. He had become adept at chasing away her nightmares over the past few months.

“Shhh... It's okay, Azula,” Sokka whispered in Azula's ear as a cry broke loose from her throat. “You're safe. Come back to me.”

He nuzzled her ear, whispering soft words that were lost in the shiver of her warm, supple body in the bed. She let out a shuddering breath and gasped, coming awake all at once. She rolled over, instantly burying her face into his chest as he pulled her close, breathing in the scent of her hair. A sob escaped her, tears bursting from her.

“Sokka!”

“It's okay... I've got you. Come here...”

He shifted in the bed, sitting up and putting his back against the carved headboard. He pulled Azula with him, and she settled in his lap, curling up against his chest. She put her arms around his neck and shook against him while he whispered to her, trying to soothe her.

He knew what she had dreamed about. They had both been having nightmares about the explosion in Rinchaka Falls for weeks now. It never seemed to leave them.

Azula drew back and took a shuddering breath, tears glazing her cheeks. She stared into his eyes for a long moment. There were no words.

He lifted his hands, cupping her cheeks, wiping at the tears on her face with his thumbs. Azula's slender fingers curled around his wrists, holding tightly as she studied his face in the darkness. As she stared at him, he saw something flicker in her eyes. Something needy, and familiar.

He had seen it before, the night of the Spring Moon.

The air between them was suddenly charged, static electricity leaping between them—as it had been early that night. He caressed her face, sliding his thumb across her bottom lip, slowly. Azula's breath caught, stuttered and then ghosted against his thumb as she flicked her tongue against his callused flesh. Her eyes flashed as the edge of her teeth scored him, so gently that it was almost a caress.

He felt heat surge up his spine, unstoppable, so sudden that he was rocked by it. His chest felt tight, every inch of his body aching in all of the ways he had been desperately trying not to ache for months now.

Azula's hands slid down his arms, raising goosebumps as the electricity seemed to run along his skin, hot and crackling. She shifted on his lap and he saw the intent in her eyes, an echo of the need that had only grown since her hungry kisses earlier that night.

“Azula...”

She surged forward and slammed her mouth to his, and shocking his lips with a jolt of electricity. He didn't care. A moan ripped out of his chest as she wrapped her arms around his neck and shifted over him, slinging her other leg over his hips to settle in his lap. Her kiss was desperate, hard and needy. His hand tangled in her hair, kissing her back just as hard. His other arm wrapped around her waist, pulling her flush with his chest, his hand spreading on her lower back.

He wanted the heat of her, to feel it envelope him completely, to make her gasp and shake, to take her again and again, until the need in him was sated.

But it would never be sated, and he knew it. It would never be enough. He would want her until he died of it, he was sure of it. As sure as the taste of her was like wine and cherries and the darkest desires of his heart.

Something stirred beyond the roaring need as their kisses grew more frantic, more desperate in the warm glow of his bedroom. She rolled her hips in his lap, against the hard ridge of his rapidly swelling cock.

Pleasure tore through him, centering in the places where her soft body fretted against his. His hands pushed up beneath her shift, running along her sides, the insides of her thighs and upward, caressing the front of her panties, which grew damp as he rubbed at her through the soft material.

Azula gasped against his lips, her hands clutching his wrists as she lifted up, tilting her hips forward into the press of his thumbs against hers.

“Sokka...”

He pressed into her, the tip of his left thumb finding the bundle of nerves between her soft flesh. She choked off whatever she had been about to say, her back arching with a strangled gasp of his name. He claimed her bared throat, working his mouth against the soft column until he found the spot on her neck that he knew drove her wild.

Azula shuddered in his arms, her hips moving forward and back against the press of his hand, into the heat of his mouth. Her nails raked along the back of his shoulders. When he slipped his thumb into the sides of her panties, seeking the heat of her, she shivered and made a purring, mewling sound.

Sokka lifted his mouth from her neck, capturing her mouth for one long moment, circling the tip of his wide thumb against her clit in the gentlest of motions. When he pulled back, he was breathing hard, his skin on fire.

“Is this okay? Is...is this what you want?” he mumbled against her mouth.

“Yes, _yes_...I want—need—” But she seemed unable to articulate much more than that, her nails digging into his shoulders and then sliding down his arm to grasp his hand. Not to remove it, but to pull him with her. Together they tumbled onto the bed in a heady tangle of limbs. His mouth found hers again and he pressed in between her grasping thighs, his weight settling over her.

Azula curled up around him, holding him there, her hands slipping back into his hair as she wrapped her legs around his waist. He slowed his kisses then, savoring her, the feel of her body beneath his, the warm press of her center against the stiff ache between his legs.

She didn't seem impatient either, holding him tightly as she moaned into his kiss, her tongue slick and warm against his as he gently flicked it into the heat of her mouth. He groaned and pushed his other hand up beneath her shift, gliding over her soft curves, over old scars that made his heart ache, and up to her breasts.

She gasped against his lips but didn't try to stop him as his hand gently kneaded her soft flesh, plucking at the berry of her nipple until it was as hard as a diamond. He felt her hand on his back, in his hair, on his shoulders and then smoothing down his chest. When she slipped her fingers into his pants, he did all he could not to groan and thrust into her fingers, to satisfy that damnable ache that tormented him.

It was a very near thing.

Her fingers encircled him and he laughed against her mouth, breathlessly. Then he kissed her again, angling his mouth against hers as she stroked him. His breath hitched as pleasured followed the steady stroke of her hand. His pulse raced and he could feel himself throbbing in her fist. Over and over again, she shaped him with her fingers, until he knew he would have to stop her or--

With a hot rush of pleasure, he felt something in him give, and he spurted into her fingers with a surprised tremble. Azula gasped against his mouth, feeling the wetness coating her fingers as she stroked him.

“Oh! Did you...?”

He laughed self-consciously, feeling heat flush his cheeks. He looked down at her in the glow of the fire, his hips working against her hand, filling her wet fingers with his length. He was still hard, still aching for her. He hadn't expected his body to give so quickly, but he shouldn't have been surprised; it had been a very long time for him. And he had wanted her for so long. The feel of her hands on him had been just enough to send him careening over a precipice he had been teetering on for months.

“That's what you do to me, my Princess,” Sokka said, nuzzling her nose with his own. Azula smiled and the expression of delighted mischief in her heated honey eyes sent his blood chasing through his veins, fire and need roaring in the center of his body. “But don't worry...I'm not even close to done with you yet.”

Even so, he caught her wrist, pulling it out of his wet pants. She didn't protest, still smiling as he bent and captured her mouth again. He kissed her long and hard, their bodies fretting against one another. When he pulled back, Sokka cupped her face, staring into her eyes for a long moment. Then he pushed himself back from her, giving her room to move and shoving the heavy fur blanket aside as he did so.

Azula lay before him, her white shift rucked up around her waist, the scars crisscrossing her open thighs, stomach and bare arms catching the firelight, turning them shiny. Her dark hair was tumbled across the pillow. He met her gaze as he ran his hands down her thighs, slowly, trailing his fingertips along her skin.

“Sokka...” she breathed, question in her eyes.

“I want to taste you, Azula,” he said, his voice a rough rumble. He could see the affect his words had on her; the heat shooting through her eyes, the sharp inhale, the way she bit down on her swollen lip. “But only if you want me to.”

Azula's hand trembled as she slid them along her stomach, hooking her fingers in the edge of her underwear. She hesitated for a moment, a pained look on her face that was too fleeting for him to guess the meaning of, and then she lifted off of the bed, slipping her panties down her hips and then her thighs.

He didn't help her, watching as she pulled them off of her feet and pushed them aside. The last time he had tried to take off her clothing, it had put her into a panic attack. He had no intention of unintentionally triggering one of those by reminding her of what had been done to her in the forest that day, so long ago.

Azula took a breath and pressed her thighs together. She was breathing hard all of a sudden, and it made warning bells go off in his head.

“You don't have to do this—” he started, feeling guilt rush into him, but she laughed and shoved her hand against her lips, as if to stop the sound.

“I want to. You _know_ I do. I've just... I've never... I don't know what I'm doing, Sokka,” she said, a rosy glow to her cheeks. “I'm...I'm _nervous._ I hate that.”

He leaned forward, bracing his arms on either side of her as he stared down into her eyes. “Trust me, you're doing amazing. You've always been amazing. Tell me what you want me to do.”

Her eyebrow arched at that.

“Oh, the possibilities of that statement.”

His grin was eager and sharp. “Uh-oh. I'm in for it now.”

“Yes, you are,” she said darkly, as she pushed up, kissing him, hot and wild, pulling him down against her. He caught one of her legs beneath the knee, pulling it up, opening her to him as he dragged his mouth down her chin to her neck. He hummed against her skin, sucking at the hollow below her ear again. Azula cried out and bucked against him, lifting her hips against his. “I need—”

But he knew what she needed. It was what he needed too.

Sokka released her neck, dragging his mouth down her body, stopping briefly to close over her nipples, which stood out hard and dark beneath her thin shift. Then he scooted down the bed, pushing her thighs open to him. His tongue trailed along her flat belly, across the little scars she had left there.

He wanted to kiss every scar, every wound, every hurt that she had ever suffered. To kiss away the pain of it, of her memories. He slid his mouth against each one, finding more than he could ever have guessed by the light of the fire warming the room.

So many.

A tight feeling hit his chest, and he lingered there, kissing each scar, sliding his tongue along them, slowly working his way down her left thigh. Azula moaned, her hand wrapped around his wolf's tail as he dragged his mouth across each stripe. He looked up at her as he worked his way back down, and saw her eyes half-lidded with arousal.

“You're so beautiful,” he mumbled, lifting his mouth, pressing his thumbs into her inner thighs. She hitched in a breath and bit down on her own thumb. For some reason the sight of her doing so aroused him beyond anything he had felt so far.

Locking eyes with her, Sokka fit himself between her thighs and slowly, slowly lowered his mouth to her wet flesh.

Azula shivered beneath him, her hips rising and falling as his tongue dragged flatly along her folds. He caught her hand, tangling their fingers as he looked up at her, moaning as her taste filled his mouth. She was sweet and musky, her juices as thick as clover honey as he swirled his tongue against her. It was everything he had imagined, and more. Azula's fingers tightened in his as he flicked across her labia, then teased her clitoris with the tip of his tongue, until it quivered before him.

Azula made a sound, sharp and needy, and he glanced up, a smile curling his lips. With his free hand, he spread her open, blowing gently on the dark hair on her mound and across her swelling clit. She stuttered out a breath at the sensation of the cool air across her wet skin, and then strangled out a moan as he gathered that sweet bud into his mouth.

His tongue swirled against her, over and over, in a way he knew would drive her toward the brink faster than teasing her would. He didn't want to tease her. He wanted to make careen over the edge, he wanted to make her cum. To know that he had given her pleasure.

Azula's thighs quivered and tried to close around his head, but he pushed them open, his breath hot on her flesh as he suckled at her clit. He squeezed her fingers, glancing up at her, but her head was back, her breasts heaving as she gasped.

His other hand, dipped down between her legs and gently eased inside of her body. She was tight and warm and he slowly worked her with his middle finger, afraid to hurt her, afraid to make her shy away from him. She didn't, responding to the press of his finger deep inside of her with a breathy exhale of his name.

He withdrew his finger, and added another, this time curling his fingertips to press against the grasping walls of her tight body.

Azula's hips rose up off of the bed, her pelvic bone ramming into his nose hard enough to make his eyes water. He didn't withdraw, however. Instead he grinned, pressing harder. His mouth closed around her clit again.

He knew by her breathing that she was close. So close. Her hips shifted with each wave of his tongue, each gentle circle of his massaging fingers inside of her. Wetness dripped down his fingers and he felt an indecent sense of satisfaction at that.

Her thighs closed on his head again, but he didn't stop her this time. Her belly quivered, her muscles tensing and the sound of his name on her lips, a broken sob that was all desperate need and wonder and raw, aching desire rolled over him, filling the warm, sex-scented air.

Her muscles clamped down on his fingers, fluttering as she tensed and tightened in one powerful rush of bone-deep pleasure that pushed a raking cry from her lips. Azula bowed up off of the bed, but he went with her this time, as much to protect his sore nose as to prolong her pleasure. He drew on her clit, feeling it quivering, the salty, warm taste of her flooding his tongue.

She collapsed beneath him, like a bridge with its spans cut—in segments; first her head; tipping back with an exhale, then her arms, then her legs, and then the rest, all at once. She relaxed into the bed beneath him and he slowly lifted his mouth, licking the taste of her from his lips.

Azula put one hand on her sweat-drenched forehead, her eyes closed as her chest heaved. She licked her lips and then opened her eyes, looking down at him with a dazed expression on her face. Sokka sat up on his knees and wiped at his mouth. Then he tipped forward and braced himself on either side of her head. His gaze flicked over her flushed skin, the sated light in her eyes, the taste of her on his tongue, in his mouth, blistered across his soul for all time.

He lifted his hand and pushed her hair out of her face. She caught his hand and pressed his palm against her cheek. Her pupils were blown wide. He'd never seen anyone so beautiful in his life.

When she pulled him forward, his chest against hers, he went all too willingly. Her kiss was sweet and yet wild. There were things in her kiss, emotions, whose deeper meanings he knew that he would never quite grasp, but he felt them just the same, and they echoed through him, filling him up, even as the taste of her filled his senses.

When he felt her tears scald his cheeks, it shocked him. Sokka pulled back and stared at her, at the tears in her eyes, and the look of shame that bloomed there.

“What's wrong?” he asked hoarsely, stroking her cheek, swiping away her tears.

“I don't know,” she said, her lower lip trembling. “I don't know, Sokka.”

He shifted to the side, curling up next to her and pulling her into his arms. Azula rolled until her head was buried in his chest. A sob broke over her then and she didn't try to hold it back this time. At a loss, he just held her there against him.

“Did I do something wrong?”

“No, no you did everything right. Everything I wanted,” she sniffed as her body trembled against his. “I don't know why...why I'm crying...”

He thought maybe he understood it, but he couldn't put it into words. It went beyond words, he supposed.

“I understand, Azula,” he said and tipped her head back, kissing her forehead. He looked deep into her eyes for a long moment, a gentle smile on his lips.

“We can still—”

But he shook his head and kissed the tears from her face. “Not tonight, my Princess.”

“I ruined it again.”

He laughed a little, gently. “No, you didn't. You haven't. You _couldn't._ Just being with you, touching you, tasting you, listening to you come for me... Azula, nothing could ruin that. I'm happier than I've ever been, just lying here with you, knowing that I could pleasure you.”

“But I know you want to go farther... I do too, I just...”

“I want what _you_ want, Azula,” he said. “We'll go as far as you want, _only_ when you want, and not a minute sooner. All I want is to love you, on _your_ terms, or not at all. We have the rest of our lives to discover each other, my Princess. I'm in no hurry.”

Azula took a deep breath, her wet gaze stormy as she searched his face. She put her hand over his heart and he put his hand over hers. They lay there like that for a long moment, his heartbeat echoing through both of their bodies.

“You're real,” she whispered.

“ _We're_ real,” he said and kissed her again, softly. He pulled back quickly and she sighed into his chest, still holding her palm over his heart. Sokka reached down, gently tugging her shift down to cover her thighs. Then he reached for the covers, pulling them up over the both of them.

He wrapped his arms around her, pulling her close, breathing in the scent of her hair as it lay on the pillow beside him. Eventually, as the night wore on, they both slipped back into their dreams.


	3. Three

Sokka woke up slowly, aware of Azula's gentle breathing against his naked shoulder. It was warm beneath the blankets, thanks no doubt to Azula's natural bed-warming abilities, but the air on his face had a cold sting to it.

Cracking one eye open, he could see that the fire he had built the night before was now only glowing coals, their heat not enough to banish the cold that seeped, as always, through even the thickest of walls here at the South Pole. The little light coming through his shuttered and covered window was gloomy and dark. It was almost dawn, but not quite.

Azula stirred against his shoulder, but didn't awaken. Sokka peered down at her in the soft gloom, studying, as he so often had before, the lines and hollows of her face. She looked so soft in sleep, with her lips parted and her dark lashes stark against her pale cheeks. Her hair was fragrant and silky against his shoulder and spread out across the pillow, draped over the arm he had around her.

Sokka smiled and ran his fingers down her cheek, but she didn't awaken. Instead she burrowed closer to him and mumbled something he couldn't quite make out.

Despite the ache in his wounded leg, a deep contentment spread through him. They were safe. They were together. And last night...

What they had done last night filled him with a sharp satisfaction, and a deeper ache for more. More of her hot and needy kisses, more of the feel of her beneath him, of her wet flesh in his mouth, of the cries of her pleasure splitting the air. He had a feeling he'd never be free of his need for her, not after last night.

She filled him in up, dazing him with desire, but it was so much more than that. They hadn't gone any farther, but it hadn't mattered. Just tasting her had been more than enough for him.

And yet... What if he had misinterpreted the spate of tears that had so confused her last night? What if she had immediately regretted it? What if she had been too scared to say anything? What if she thought he'd pushed her? He hadn't meant to, but what if he had?

Had he pushed her into something she wasn't ready for? Squeezing his eyes shut tightly, Sokka thought back to last night, and the desperate way she'd kissed him, pulled him against her, gasped as he'd brought her to the edge...her sure hand on his hard flesh...

Something in him relaxed at that. She had wanted him, and he knew it. He turned his willing eyes back on her, a thousand thoughts in his head.

Azula sighed in her sleep, a loop of hair falling blackly against her cheek. Sokka gently pushed it away, tucking it behind her ear. As he did, he saw a dark purple bruise on her neck. He winced and then smiled ruefully; he'd been a little too enthusiastic last night, leaving love bruises like a teenager. He wondered what his Gran-Gran would say if she saw it. Amusement ran through him at that thought, even as a shiver shook him. He cursed the cold as he kissed her forehead and then gently slipped her off of his shoulder and onto the pillow.

He got out of bed as quietly as possible and went over to the little double-sided hearth that heated both the great room and his bedroom. The bathing room was heated by the fire he kept lit, when he was in residence, beneath the copper boiler he'd designed to heat his bathwater. He was proud of his invention, and even prouder when his design had caught on and spread throughout the Tribe.

He stirred the coals, putting on a small log and slowly building the fire back up. When it was crackling cheerily, he stood, massaging his aching leg.

Limping back to the bed, he climbed back in beside her. She stirred from her dreams for a moment, rolling so that her back was to him. He curled up around her and nestled his face in her warm hair, slinging one arm around her waist. She touched his cold hand with her warm one.

“Sokka?” Her voice was thick with sleep.

“Just building up the fire. Go back to sleep,” he whispered and kissed the hollow beneath her ear.

“Mmm...” she mumbled and stilled in his arms, her breathing even. He snuggled closer. They had a while before anyone would expect them up and about, and he intended to sleep as much as possible. It had been months, it seemed, since he'd slept without fear of attack.

“Sokka...” His brow furrowed and he pulled himself out of the half-doze that had already claimed him. He lifted his head as Azula rolled over in the bed to face him. She snuggled down into his willing arms, pushing her face against his chest. Her fingers spread warmly over his heart.

A little smile played on his lips as he stroked her hair. His eyes drifted closed, but snapped open the next moment, as she mumbled in her sleep.

“Sokka...I love you...”

Sokka stiffened, his breath catching as the words tumbled through the air. His hand shook as he stroked hair, but she didn't wake. He slowly relaxed into her warmth, smiling sleepily.

“I love you too,” he whispered, but she didn't wake.

* * *

 

“Dad? Malina?” Sokka called as he opened the door to his father's home an hour later, with the barest of knocks upon the front door. “You guys home?”

“Come in, Sokka!” Hakoda called from the rough-hewn wooden table in the small but orderly scullery. He and Iroh were seated at the table, cups of tea steaming in front of them. “Malina had to work, but she left breakfast for you. You shaved!”

Sokka's hand strayed to his head, and then skittered across his freshly shaven face. He still wasn't used to looking like himself again. Even wearing the thick blue coat with the white fur collar gave him a slightly out of body feeling, as if his old life didn't quite fit him anymore.

“Yeah, I guess so,” he said softly.

“Uh...where is your... Umm. Princess Azula?”

Iroh took a steady sip of his tea, and avoided looking at Sokka as he closed the door and limped into the house. Despite the healing Malina had done on it, the wound wasn't fully healed yet, and the cold made the torn muscle ache.

“Still asleep. I didn't have the heart to wake her,” Sokka replied as he came over to the table and gratefully sat down in an empty chair. “She's exhausted. We both are.”

“What exactly have the two of you been through, son?” Hakoda asked gravely. “Iroh told me a little, but—”

“But I do not know much, myself,” Iroh said heavily, pouring Sokka a cup of tea. He took it from him gratefully, sipping the warm tea and banishing the last of the cold that had clung to him on his short walk from his home to his father's.

“It's a long story.”

“So you said,” Hakoda said, sitting back in his chair and gesturing for Sokka to continue. Taking a deep breath, Sokka launched in, starting at the beginning, when Mai had been recruited into the Smoke Demons, of Azula's recruitment, and then his, all in an effort to stop Zuko from being assassinated, and finally ending with the attempt at the ball, Osamu's attack, and finally, their flight to the South Pole.

“And that's all I know,” Sokka finished up as he grabbed a lumpy cheese and herb biscuit from the platter in front of him and took a large bite. “Zuko sent us away because I got hurt. Who knows what's happening now? He may have caught the leaders of the Smoke Demons, or... Well, the faster I recover the better. I don't like that we left them, but I wasn't in much shape to fight with Zuko. And, I'll be frank, I wanted Azula as far away from the Smoke Demons as possible. They had plans for her and there were a few Smoke Demons I wouldn't want to meet in a head-on fight, if it came to that. These people are powerful and dangerous. Zuko's up against all if it. I'm worried.”

“Zuko is strong and smart,” Iroh said steadfastly. “He will not be so easily trapped by the machinations of the Smoke Demons now that he is aware of their existence. And he is not alone in the palace. The Kyoshi Warriors will protect him.”

“I know they will,” Sokka said heavily. “Suki especially won't let anything happen to him. I just hope she doesn't get herself killed trying to protect him.”

Hakoda's eyes gleamed at that, but he didn't say anything. “I think we should ask Aang to get involved. I understand why he had to stay out of it all of this time, but now that the mole in the palace has been revealed, his help could prove invaluable to the Fire Lord.”

“I agree,” Iroh said.

“Yeah, you're right. I'm sure Zuko's thought of that too, but just in case, it's probably best if we send him word right away.”

“I will see to it,” Iroh said quickly, standing and pulling on a thick woolen coat that barely buttoned over his expansive belly. “I'm sure there is much still to discuss between the two of you...and I would like to look in on my niece.”

“Of course,” Sokka said and then rubbed at the back of his neck. “If she's still sleeping, don't wake her, please. She doesn't sleep much, and last night... Uh. Well...”

He could feel his face flush at that, and the memory of Azula clutching his hair as she gasped his name came to him in a lurid splash of memory and sensual sense. And that moment in bed this morning...of her sleepy confession that he wasn't sure if he could trust or not...

What if she hadn't meant it? She'd been asleep, after all. She could have been dreaming.

Iroh's face softened, seeing the blush in Sokka's cheeks, lines of care and worry around his eyes, which were the same color as Zuko's and Azula's. “You care very much for her, don't you?”

Sokka felt heat rush up the back of his neck as he felt his father's eyes on him as well. “General Iroh, Azula and I...”

Iroh reached out and touched Sokka's arm. “I know...and I approve.” Iroh glanced in Hakoda's direction at that, furtively, and then back at Sokka. “She seems softer somehow with you than I have ever seen her. It's clear to anyone how you feel about one another.”

“Is it?” Sokka mused.

“Very,” Hakoda drawled, surprising Sokka, who turned to look at him, the smile freezing on his lips. He didn't like the tone in his father's voice all of a sudden. Iroh's gaze flicked from Sokka to Hakoda and back again.

“I'll make sure the Avatar receives our message,” Iroh said and then swept out of Hakoda's hut, leaving the two men alone at the table. With the General gone, most of the warmth in the room went with it, and the chill in the air seemed to have nothing to do with the wind that had swept in through the front door.

Sokka picked at his biscuit, avoiding his father's gaze for a few minutes, aware of how his father was watching him. Finally, he slapped the biscuit down on the table and burst out, “What?”

“Nothing!” Hakoda said, sipping his tea.

“I know you too well, Dad. Spill it.”

Hakoda set his tea down and then ran his hand through his beaded hair. After a long moment, he sighed and looked up at Sokka, meeting his eyes with a sober expression on his face. “I've been worried sick about you for nearly a year...and then you show up out of the blue, covered in tattoos, wounded, and with that—that—that girl and a tale about going undercover and nearly dying a half-dozen times! I don't know what to think!”

“Why do I think the part that's bothering you the most is my being with Azula?” Sokka said in a low voice. “You don't like her?”

“I don't even know her, I can't very well dislike someone I don't know,” Hakoda said waspishly.

“And yet I have a feeling you have a problem with her.”

“I know her reputation, that's all. She nearly killed your brother-in-law, and you, _and_ your sister. Even her own brother, if memory serves.”

“Yeah? So what? That was a long time ago. She's not the same person, Dad. You don't know her the way I do. Trust me, she's not the person she was. I trust Azula with my life. She _earned_ my trust, Dad. She earned my respect. And—”

“And you're in love with her.”

“Yeah, I am!” he burst out, flinging out his hands. “I am in love with her! Can everyone just fucking see it written across my face or something?”

“Watch your language!”

“Well, what's the matter with me being in love with her? Huh?”

Hakoda peered at him for a long moment and then put his tea down with a soft thunk. “Because the last time I checked you were dating Suki!”

“Suki and I broke up, Dad.”

“Before or after you started sleeping with Azula?”

Sokka tilted his head back, staring at the ceiling. He stretched his neck, making it pop. He supposed this conversation had been inevitable.

“That is... _complicated_ , Dad.”

“Simplify it for me, then,” Hakoda said, crossing his arms over his chest. Sokka rubbed at his temple, his wounded leg aching with a throb as he tried to find the words to explain. There was no way for him to come off looking like anything but the kind of man his father had definitely NOT raised him to be, but there was no hiding it.

He had made his mistakes, and he was determined to own them. If he could face Suki with the truth, he could certainly face his father.

“Suki and Zuko are together, or at least they probably are by now. She has feelings for him, something I knew before I went undercover with Azula. We were probably on our way to a break up long before all of this happened, and my falling in love with Azula didn't help matters. The break up was mutual, and I'd like to think it was on good terms, but if she has time to think about the fact that I cheated on her, I'm sure she'll change her mind about that.”

“So those rumors about Zuko and Suki...?”

“Not true. Mostly. She never cheated on me. I can't believe those stupid rumors made it all the way down here too. I couldn't get away from them when me and Azula were traveling.”

“And that didn't influence you to start looking at other women, huh?”

Sokka dropped his hand and looked at his father for a long moment. “What?”

“What do you and this Princess have in common, really, other than the fact that two of you were forced together by dire circumstances?”

“Are you trying to tell me I only have feelings for her because she was _convenient?_ ” Rage rippled through him as he stared at his father, who looked back at him calmly. Too calmly.

“I'm saying I'm not surprised you do, all things considered.”

“That's not what happened!” Sokka said hotly, standing and slamming his hands down flat on the table. “I love her because of her. She's... Dad, she's the one.”

Hakoda let out a sharp breath and leaned forward, putting both elbows on the table. “She's not well, Sokka. Iroh was telling me she...well, she's ill.”

“I know that,” he snarled. “I know that better than anyone. She's not crazy. She's been hurt, Dad. She's been hurt really, really badly. I can't even tell you how badly. It would make you sick to your stomach to know what happened to her. And you wouldn't act like she was going to gut me at any moment if you knew her the way I know her. She's stronger than you know. She's incredible, actually. You just...you don't understand. You weren't there. You don't know.”

Hakoda studied him for a moment and then nodded. “No, I don't know. And it's very obvious how you feel about her. You do love her?”

“Yes.”

Hakoda went quiet, his mouth down-turned for a moment. “I admit, it blindsided me, you showing up here with her. And the way you look at her shocked me a bit. I always thought you and Suki would get married eventually. You know how fond of her I am.”

“I know,” he said heavily and then shrugged. “Suki and I lived two very different lives. Even if Zuko and Azula hadn't come between us, I think we would have drifted apart eventually anyway.”

“And what about this Princess of yours? Where do the two of you go from here?”

Sokka hesitated, glancing down at the half-eaten biscuit on the table before him. He shrugged. “I don't know. I haven't thought that far ahead.”

“I thought not,” Hakoda sighed. “I just want to make sure you know what you're doing, here. I don't want you to get hurt, Sokka.”

“She won't hurt me. She's changed.”

“That's not what I meant.”

Sokka stared down into the depths of his black tea, feeling his heart aching. “I know. I love her, Dad.”

Hakoda smiled softly. “Then for your sake, I hope this princess feels the same way about you.”

Sokka thought back to Azula's sleepy mumble and returned his father's smile. “I think she does, but Azula... She's complicated, let's just say that.”

Hakoda laughed, some of the tension easing out of him as his eyes danced with amusement. He reached out and clapped Sokka on the shoulder. “Women are always complicated, son. _Especially_ Princesses.”

“Don't I know it.”


	4. Four

“Sokka?” Azula called as she belted on her singed green robe, looking around the empty bedroom. When he didn't answer, panic seized her, and she flew out of the bedroom, only to find herself face to face with Iroh's unusually grim countenance. “Oh! Uncle!”

“Good morning,” Iroh said, pulling a nervous smile and backing up from the bedroom door, which he had obviously been about to knock on. “I came to check on you. How did you sleep?”

“Well enough, I suppose,” she answered, blushing as memories of the night before flashed in her mind. She glanced behind him. “Where's Sokka?”

“At Chief Hakoda's.”

“Oh,” she said softly, pushing her hair back behind her ear. “I thought he might wait for me.”

Disappointment flooded her, and something like shame as she thought of what had happened between them the night before. She had been so happy for a moment, so sure that the twisted, hateful fear inside of her had been banished yet again, that she could give herself to him completely—just like she wanted—but then she had started crying. She had ruined it, even if Sokka had said she hadn't, she knew that she had.

She still didn't know why she had been crying. Sokka had understood, or he said he had, but what if he hadn't? What if he thought she was too broken to bother with? What if he regretted everything they had done?

What if...?

But she couldn't follow that line of thinking, or she'd put herself into a panic attack from which there would be no coming back. Instead, she focused on Iroh, who was looking at her with soft concern.

“Sokka didn't want to wake you. He seems very concerned about you,” Iroh said, his gaze flicking to her neck and back to her face. She flipped her hair forward to cover the love bite Sokka had made there last night. She saw Iroh's beard twitch.

“I'm not the one who took an arrow to the leg,” she said sharply. “He needs more rest than I do. I wish he'd woken me.”

_And that we'd had a chance to talk about last night..._

“Perhaps. It was decided that we should send a letter to Avatar Aang, informing him of what is happening. I volunteered to do it, so that that Sokka and his father could catch up. I think they have a lot to talk about.”

Azula hesitated and then nodded. “Yes, I suppose they do. And getting the Avatar involved at this point is probably a good idea. Who knows what the Smoke Demons are planning?”

“I agree, and we must do what we can to help. Even if it is only sending a letter,” Iroh's gaze softened a little as he walked over to Sokka's kitchen table. There was a basket of some kind of fried, sugary dough there, and a steaming teapot, with two cups awaiting them.

“A letter can be intercepted,” she pointed out. “But I guess that's a moot point right now, seeing as how our cover was broken, and Zuko knows about the Smoke Demons.”

“The Avatar can protect himself well enough. Worrying about every detail will only lead to headaches and heartaches. Come, I brought you some breakfast. They were selling these sweets near the messenger hawk station and I thought perhaps you'd be hungry when you awoke?” Iroh said, taking one of the fried pieces of dough and popping it into his mouth, coating his lips in powdered sugar. “They're delicious!”

Her stomach rumbled watching him eat and she found herself taking one from the basket. The dough was soft and airy and she eagerly devoured first one, then another.

“Thank you, Uncle,” she said cautiously.

“My pleasure,” he said, taking a sip of his tea with a grimace. “Sokka does not have any sugar.”

“This is fine,” she said, drinking the unsweetened black tea as she sat down at the table. Her uncle sat with her, watching as she reached for another of the fried sweets. She nibbled on it, feeling his gaze on her, studying her. Finally, she put her tea down and stared at him for a long moment. “I can hear the words tumbling around in your head, Uncle. Say what you want to say already.”

Iroh chuckled a little, amusement dancing in his eyes. “As blunt as always.”

“I've never seen the point of dancing around politeness,” Azula said with a sigh.

“Sokka told me what the two of you went through. Oh, not all, I'm sure. But enough. I want to thank you, Princess Azula, for putting your life in danger to help Fire Lord Zuko.”

“Well, I wouldn't want you to lose your favorite relative, now would I?” she shot at him, and a wellspring of bitterness opened up in her. One she hadn't suspected was still there. She'd thought she'd come to terms with the fact that her Uncle had always favored Zuko, but apparently that hurt went deeper than she'd realized.

Iroh stilled, clutching his cup of tea for a moment, his gnarled fingers turning white at the knuckles. “It is true, Zuko and I are very close. We have always been close, but I am not so blind that I do not know that I fostered that closeness in an attempt to heal myself after Lu Ten's untimely death. The failure of the Siege of Ba Sing Se, and the grief of losing my only son changed me in many ways. Zuko was my way of atoning. I wanted to rescue him from the bitterness and anger that runs through our family like a rushing river. To see him on the throne, strong, with goodness in his heart...it feels me with joy.”

“And when you look at me, you see my father, don't you?”

Iroh sighed. “Once, I did. You were much like Ozai growing up. Hungry for power, and praise from our father. I can see now that I treated you and your brother differently because of that resemblance, and I gave up on you because of my own experiences with Ozai's unbalanced mind. It wasn't right. I never did right by you, my niece. I should have attempted to pry you away from your father's influence the way I did Zuko. Perhaps things might have turned out differently.”

“I never would have listened to you back then, Uncle. My father believed you to be a weak man, and I believed everything my father said, so I too thought you were soft, and weak. I would have rejected any attempt you made to appeal to me. No matter how much sense you made.”

“Still, I should have tried harder. And I should never have let you wander this world alone. Nor should Zuko. I am ashamed of our family.”

“Our family has done a lot to be shameful for, but I'm not sure letting me go when I'd made it clear I didn't want to be pursued is one of them. I didn't exactly give you a reason to want me around.”

Iroh didn't say anything. He seemed to be working something around in his mind. Finally, he said, “I am still ashamed. I knew you were sick. And when you showed up on my doorstep...”

Azula felt a lump forming in her throat, and the tea in her stomach seemed to boil, burning her throat like acid. “That was... That was a long time ago, Uncle. And it had nothing to do with you, or anything you did. I should never have come to your home like that.”

“Of course you should have!” Iroh said, shock in his eyes. “You are my niece, Azula! I have not always done right by you, but you will always be welcome in my home with open arms.”

“Zuko said the same thing.”

“Your brother loves you. As do I.”

“I'm not sure that's true,” she snorted, but she could feel the lump growing in her burning throat.

Love? What did she know about love?

But, rolling over her like a wave crashing to shore, Sokka's easy affection rolled over her, her own deep, terrifying feelings as sharp as a knife in her heart. She knew nothing about love, but she felt it just the same. Once she hadn't thought she would ever feel it, but she had been wrong...so wrong...

And it terrified her.

She glanced at Iroh, and saw the soft look in his eyes. The worry. The shame.

“It is true, whether you choose to believe it or not,” Iroh said, reaching out to take her hand. She pulled it away at the last moment, withdrawing from his touch. Iroh hitched in a breath and curled his fingers back into his palm. “I'm sorry. I forgot...”

And a sudden flash hit her, a memory she hadn't thought of in a long time. She, lying sick in bed, crying, thrashing, screaming as memories and nightmares plagued her. Of Iroh, reaching for her, asking her what was wrong...his hands on her, and her, skittering away from him, rocking in a corner...lost to her nightmares and memories of cruel hands holding her down, dirt in her screaming mouth...

“No, it's fine... I just...” She wiped her hand down her face and felt tears in her corners of her eyes. “I never said thank you. For taking me in.”

“You never had to, Azula.”

“But I still should have. I was very sick and very scared, and you took me in when you had every right to turn me away.”

“I never would have done that.”

“I know. And I know I never told you what was wrong. I barely said two words to you that whole time...but... But I was grateful. I still am. Thank you for taking me in, Uncle. And thank you for not demanding answers. I didn't have the strength to give them to you back then, and if you had pushed... Thank you for not pushing.”

Iroh nodded and stared down at his clasped hands. He looked thoughtful for a moment and then looked up, meeting her gaze. “I knew what was wrong with you, Azula, though you never said.”

“You did?”

Iroh nodded and then grief lined his face.

“Your aunt suffered several miscarriages both before and after she bore our Lu Ten. We had many difficulties conceiving. I knew the signs easily enough, and knew what malady you were suffering.”

Azula stared at Iroh for a moment and then looked down at her hands. Her heart skipped several beats, but she found her voice, her words thick. “It wasn't a miscarriage, Uncle. I had the pregnancy terminated on my own, but it went badly and there was an infection. Before I came to your home, I saw a doctor there in Ba Sing Se. They treated me, but... I'm not able to have children any longer. Or at least, it is very unlikely that I may.”

Tears welled in Iroh's eyes. “I am so sorry, Azula.”

“I was never going to be a mother. I can't mourn what I never wanted.”

“I am still sorry. For many things... The father?”

She hitched in a sharp breath. “Dead and gone, and I'd like to leave it at that, Uncle.”

Iroh stilled, a frown forming between his bushy eyebrows. Then he nodded. “Of course.” He tilted his head and studied her. “You do look healthier than you did the last time I saw you. Tired...but there is a light to you. Being with Sokka has been good for you.”

She snorted and grabbed another sugary sweet from the basket, popping it into her mouth. “Sokka mother hens me into eating most days. He thinks I'll waste away if left to my own devices.”

“Sokka loves you very much.”

She stared down into her tea, feeling her cheeks heating up. “Did he tell you that?”

“He did not have to, any fool could see the way he cares for you. And the way you care for him.”

“He thinks I'm in love with him,” she found herself admitting, her face flushing even more. She couldn't bring herself to meet Iroh's gaze, but she could feel it on her.

“Aren't you?” he asked quietly.

She shrugged. “I don't know if I have any right to love him, Uncle. Not after the things I've done...and because... Because of what's going on in here.” She touched the side of her head with her index finger.

“I know you are... _troubled_...”

“I'm sick, Uncle. There is something very wrong with me,” she said baldly, looking up into his eyes. “I've run from it for a long time, but being with Sokka has made me realize that running will not make me better.”

Iroh pressed his lips together, speckles of sugar in his iron gray beard. He studied her again, and then said gently, “After you left, I searched Ba Sing Se for someone who might be able to help you, should you ever come back. You never did, but I did find a doctor at the university. She studies the mind, and all its maladies. She has come up with many treatments for her patients. She says that treating the illnesses of the mind are just as important as treating cancers and broken bones. There are medicines, therapies. She is well thought of by her peers, and I think... I think she may be able to help you, if you wish.”

Azula stared at Iroh for a long moment. “Zuko sent me to that asylum--”

“This is not a place like that. Doctor Song would not institutionalize you. You would be free to come and go as you please. In fact...I was thinking... Perhaps you could move in with me while you were being treated? I would love to have you, and I have more than enough room.”

Azula stared at Iroh in shock. “You want me to live with you?”

“Yes. If you want. I would be honored to have you in my home. _Our_ home.”

“I would drive you to drink, Uncle. I'm not an easy person to live with, as you well know.”

“I would relish the challenge...and to know that you are safe... That would the greatest gift I could imagine.”

The lump in her throat threatened to choke her and for a moment she could do nothing but stare at her uncle. Finally, she swallowed, and said in a quiet voice, “If I moved to Ba Sing Se, I'd have to leave Sokka.”

But hadn't that been her plan for weeks now? Hadn't she nearly left him on Ember Island that night? Why was this so different from that?

But she knew.

Iroh's eyes were soft and understanding. “You _are_ in love with him, whether you would admit it or not.”

She hitched in a breath and put her hand over her mouth, a snatch of dream floating hazily across her mind, of lying in Sokka's warm arms...of whispering her love to him...admitting it...

But it had been a dream. It had always been a dream.

“He could come too, of course, if that is what you want. If it's what _he_ wants. I have always been fond of Sokka, and I see the way he cares for you. He would be more than welcome.”

Azula's thoughts flitted from one thing to to next, as fast as sparrows avoiding a predatory hawk. What did she want? She wanted to be better. She wanted to stop waking up with screams in her mouth. She wanted to stop seeing ghosts that weren't there, to stop hearing the voices that begged her to harm herself. She wanted to stop taking knives to her skin, just to feel pain, just to remind herself that she was alive and breathing.

She wanted to take control of her life again. She wanted to find out who she was, beneath this illness that had torn down every part of her personality, until she had cowered away from the world, too afraid to feel or love, until Sokka had walked into her life.

And Sokka. Most of all she wanted Sokka. She loved him, afraid as she was to admit it, she _knew_ that she loved him, but was it enough? Could she ask him to give up his life, now when he was just starting to reclaim it?

She didn't know. She was terrified of the answer.

She licked her lips and met Iroh's gaze. “I'll have to think about it. Thank you, Uncle. Please...don't mention this to Sokka just yet.”

Iroh nodded and took another sweet from the basket. “I will not. Whatever decision you make, just know that you will always be welcome in my home. Always.”

She surprised herself, and him, when she got up from her chair and threw her arms around him. Iroh hesitated and then folded his arms around her. She let go quickly though, and he let her slide away without comment.

Iroh left soon after, and Azula felt herself adrift as soon as the door closed behind him. She got dressed, and then stared at the quiet room, her eyes unfixed as she worked over what Iroh had said, and the generous offer he had made to her.

A treatment for her illness seemed too much to hope for. She had lived with it for so long. She had learned to cope, or least she had thought she had, until circumstances had torn those delusions away from her. Sokka had helped her, more than he probably realized, by giving her something to focus on, by putting himself in harm's way just to pull her back from the dark places of her confused mind, by taking the knife from her hand so that she couldn't drag it across her striped skin.

He had done the one thing no one else had ever done for her. He had _cared_ about her. Truly, deeply, with every bit of his heart. He would not hurt her. And yet...

And yet he _had_ hurt her. Not intentionally, but she had still been hurt, by his own confusion and reticence to tell her what he truly wanted: her or Suki? She hadn't wanted to to admit that his reluctance to choose was still bothering her, but it was. Nevermind that he had, apparently, chosen her. That he kept telling her that he wanted her, that he didn't want to be with Suki. If she were honest with herself, she just didn't trust that that was what had happened.

Suki had fallen in love with Zuko. Suki may well have decided to end things between her and Sokka because of that, but had Sokka _actually_ wanted to end things? Had he said he had, just to save face? Had he settled for her, Azula, as some sort of consolation, because the woman he really wanted had rejected him?

And if she was...how long before he realized that? How long before he resented her for not being the woman he really wanted?

Her head ached. Her heart ached. The doubts in her mind were crowding everything out, even his words, his actions...even the fact that she knew—she _knew_ —that he loved her. Nothing could stop that little niggle of doubt in eating away at her soul.

 _A man tells me he loves me and I can't even happily believe it,_ she thought moodily as she looked around Sokka's home, trying to distract herself. She went over to the desk in the corner. There were stacks of papers there, dust on everything. He had been gone a long time. _Because_ _I took him from his life._

A sour feeling hit her stomach as she spotted a hand-bound book half-buried beneath what looked like a letter from Sokka's sister, Katara. Pulling the book out from the stack, she opened it and found herself staring at Sokka's handwriting. She'd know those cramped little symbols anywhere.

She scanned the page and a little smile crossed her lips. Poetry. It was a whole book of poetry, clearly written by Sokka. She flipped through the book, sinking into the desk chair as she did.

His poetry was awful, and she loved every line, every verse, every stupid rhyme. She felt her heart squeeze painfully as she lifted a hand against her mouth, covering the grin that was spreading on her face.

“I'm really that far gone, if bad poetry is turning me into a puddle of goo,” she sniped at herself, but her exasperation at her own soft heartedness was mostly amusement. But her amusement faded after a moment, as sadness and a tight kind of panic set in.

Yes, she was _that_ far gone...and that was dangerous. Azula hastily put the book of poetry down on the desk and got up. She needed some fresh air.

She didn't bother with one of the coats hung on the wall near the door. Her chi would keep her warm enough. Stepping into the cold, she blinked in the bright sterile light reflecting off of the snow. It made tears sting her eyes, but she just bent her head into the wind and took off in a vaguely southward direction, away from the town.

She had a lot to think about.


	5. Five

****She was stark and beautiful in the low sunlight, a drop of blood upon the snow, hair as dark as shadows. Her eyes were turbulent, expression turned inward, her red mouth a sensual red pout. Alone, unwatched, her usual wary bearing, as of a hunted animal, had softened into profound sadness.

She looked so alone, aloof and untouchable in the cold, barren landscape, wandering towards the harbor that rolled gray and sullen to the ragged, ice-rimmed shore. His heart ached.

She was too withdrawn to notice that she wasn't alone, that he had followed her across the icy snowscape on her solitary journey, the wind tearing at her clothes. She didn't seem to feel the bitter wind.

He was cold and stiff, however, following her at a distance, slinking between the frozen hummocks of snow, and the small huts of the ice fisherman that dotted the shores.

His blood rushed in his veins. So close. He was so close. He could take her now, take her and be gone before anyone knew she was missing...

She would be his.

He twitched, every single muscle aching to act, to take what he wanted, what he deserved, what he had wanted for so long, but he forced himself to stay still, feet frozen in the snow. He watched as she crossed her arms and stared out to sea, the wind pushing her hair back like a raven banner.

Patient. He needed to be patient. She would be his, in time. It had been promised to him, by a higher authority than that trumped up, power-hungry would-be queen Lady Shura. He'd made mistakes before, mistakes that had cost him his chance to assassinate that Usurping Fire Lord.

He would not make mistakes this time. He would wait.

For days he had followed their trail through the skies. It hadn't been easy. He had nearly lost them near Whale Tale Island, but once past the island, there had been only one place for them to go.

The Southern Water Tribe.

He had come upon the Tribe by night, the glow of the village lighting up the dark and guiding his airship in. He had hidden it behind a large hill, but it could be discovered at any moment and he was keenly aware of that; nothing stayed hidden in a barren landscape such as this for long.

He had found their airship easily enough; the red balloon had been stark against the snow even from several miles off. He had found tracks in the snow leading away from it, but he was no tracker, and the prints soon mixed in with other footprints as it neared the village.

He'd broken into a hut before dawn, and stolen some warm clothing. It had been high summer in the Fire Nation, but down here it was freezing, and he was no Firebender.

He had spotted her by accident, just when he was about to risk waylaying someone in this Gods-forsaken tundra for information.

 _It was meant to be,_ he thought to himself, watching her as she wiped tears from her eyes. _I was meant to find her. We belong together and eventually she will realize that. She'll forget all about Tazeo...if that's even his name._

After that botched assassination attempt, and Tazeo's apparent heel-turn, he strongly doubted that the man he had come to know—and hate from the depths of his soul—was the real Tazeo. Who he was, he didn't know. He didn't care.

He was going to kill him.

 _I'll kill that bastard, and I'll take Iroh back to Shura,_ _if I can get to him. If not... Well_ _. Azula_ _is still_ _mine,_ _as my father promised_ , Rian thought savagely, ducking behind the fisherman's hut he was crouched behind just as Azula turned back toward him. Her eyes were red, and she looked sad, and yet resolute.

Azula walked back toward the village, and he followed, silently stalking, plotting, planning, vengeance burning in his black heart.

* * *

 

“Azula?” Sokka called as he took off his thick woolen coat, hanging it on a hook near the door. “Azula? Sorry I was gone for so long. I stopped in to see my Gran-Gran after I went to my dad's. Azula?”

He glanced around the living room, but it was empty. There were two cold cups of tea on the table, and a basket of doughnuts beside them that told him Iroh had come and gone. A sudden lump formed in Sokka's chest as he stared at the empty room. Then he was practically running, tearing aside the heavy furs that hung across the entrance to his bedroom. The bed was empty, unmade, Azula's scent still lingering in the air. The door to the bathing chamber was open and dark.

He charged inside, but she wasn't there.

His heart hammering, panic seizing him, he tore out of the bathing chamber, and into the bedroom again.

She was gone.

Azula was gone.

He felt a rush of blood go to his head, fear and despair, as he clutched at the jagged scar that ran like white lightning across his scalp. He felt dizzy, his thoughts a great burst of unreasoning panic that thundered and popped, his blood a rush and spin through his veins.

Gone.

She couldn't be gone.

Unbidden, his scattered thoughts flung themselves back to that night on Ember Island, when she had nearly left him. He had woken up alone, all of his suspicions coming to a head, and the letter he not been able to bring himself to read, for he had known what was in it all along, clutched beneath the pillow that still smelled of her sweet perfume.

She had tried to leave that night...and he had wanted nothing more than to fall at her feet, begging and pleading... But he hadn't. He had wanted her to decide for herself what she wanted.

And she had nearly left. Only Mai's arrival had stopped her, and the duties they had pledged themselves to.

They had done their duty, to Zuko, to Mai, to the cause of stopping the Smoke Demons. What would stop her from leaving now? She had told him she would go when it was all over, but that had been before he'd broken up with Suki. He'd thought that had changed things.

What if it hadn't?

He couldn't lose her. Not now.

Limping back out of the bedroom, his heart banging hard in his chest, he staggered to the door. He would stop her. He would bring her back.

As he reached for his coat again, the door opened, startling him into gasping as Azula stepped inside and closed the door behind her. She stopped when she noticed him, their gazes meeting for a long moment.

He found himself struggling to breathe as he took in the sight of her. Every inch of him ached as the knot of panic in his chest eased and released.

“Sokka...”

“Where were you?” he croaked, his hands shaking at his sides, which he hoped she wouldn't notice, but he could tell that she had. She studied his face for a moment, noting the look in his eyes, the paleness of his sweaty face.

“I went for a walk. I needed to think.”

“You went for a walk in _that?_ ” he said, gesturing to her clothing.

She shrugged. “I'm a Firebender, Sokka. Only pretty extreme shock and exhaustion drains our chi enough for us to feel the cold. Anyway, I just needed some air. You were worried?”

He tried to make himself relax, but the fear that had spiked in him so suddenly and completely wouldn't seem to settle down. Instead it formed another hot, hard lump in his chest that restricted his breathing.

“About you? Always,” he said teasingly, but his words fell flat. He let out a breath and then shook his head. “I just want to make sure you're safe.”

“Oh? Are your people going to hurt me?” she said, gesturing to the door, her lips twisted. “Is that what your father said?”

His brow furrowed. “What? No. My dad—”

“He doesn't like me, Sokka.”

“I had a talk with him this morning. He just needed to know I'm alright, that's all. He's worried about me.”

“Because I'm a psycho bitch murderer who corrupted his boy?”

Sokka held up a hand. “He doesn't think that! In fact, he invited us over for dinner tonight. He told me wants to get to know you. My Gran and step-grandfather are going to be there, too. And your uncle. Azula, he knows how I feel about you.”

“You mean, how you _think_ you feel about me,” she said, looking away from him and then up at him defiantly.

He stilled, meeting her gaze, but she looked away again a moment later, walking farther into the room. He followed, his gaze thunderous as her words spread through him.

“You _know_ how I feel. I haven't tried to hide it...even when I should have.”

“I think you think you feel that way about me, but eventually you'll figure out that you don't.”

“Why would you think that?” he asked, his voice a deep rumble that shook through him. He felt deceptively calm after his panic at thinking her gone. No, now he felt as calm as a clear pond on a windless day. “Azula, talk to me!”

He touched her shoulder, stopping her. She turned on him, eyes large and confused, and full of fear. She bit down on her lip and then looked away.

“You couldn't have her. So you settled for me.”

“Do you really think that?”

“What else am I supposed to think?” she cried out. “When we went to the palace and you went to her, I thought for sure that was it. That you'd work things out with her!”

“That didn't happen! We broke up!”

“Only because _she_ didn't want you!”

He stilled again and bit down on his tongue, tasting bitterness in his mouth. “She wanted me plenty, Azula. I could have had her right there, if I'd wanted. No matter how she felt about Zuko, she still had feelings for me, and if I'd pressed...if I'd _wanted_... Maybe we'd be still be together. _Maybe_ we could have fixed it. Even she knew that. She admitted it. We both did. But that wasn't what _I_ wanted. I didn't want to fix it. Not even out of guilt. Not even to spite Zuko.”

“And that didn't go both ways, did it? If she'd wanted you right then, she couldn't have had you? You wouldn't have fallen into her arms?” she shot at him, and he staggered back as if she'd physically hit him.

Sokka took a deep breath and ran his hand down his face. “I'm not going to lie to you, a part of me wanted that. I can't turn off...it's not black and white! That's not how this works, Azula! Suki and I have history, a long history! And I loved her. That's a powerful thing and it's confusing to suddenly...have something you thought would never change just...just fall away. It's _still_ confusing! But I knew—I KNEW—when I looked at her I _knew_ she wasn't the woman I wanted. Not anymore. I looked at her and all I could think about was _you_.”

Azula didn't say anything. He'd said this to her before; he knew that she knew this, but for some reason she wasn't willing to believe it.

And he didn't like that she sounded like his father right now, but he knew his own mind, and his own heart.

 _She's scared,_ he thought suddenly. _She's in love with me, and she's scared out of her mind,_ _because last night, we..._

He swallowed and stared at her sadly. “Is this about last night?”

Her head shot up. “NO!”

“Because if I pushed you—”

“You didn't! I wanted to, that's not...” She passed her hand across her face, surreptitiously rubbing her eyes. “That's not it. At all.”

“Then what is it?”

“I... Sokka, I...” She swallowed and her chin wobbled as tears threatened her eyes again. She seemed unable to hold them back.

“You can't push me away, Azula. Not like this, not by trying to convince me that I'm not in love with you. I know the truth. I _know_ how I feel. I always did, and if I didn't make that clear to you before because of the situation with Suki, then I'm sorry. I love you. I'm in love with you. _Period._ If you want to push me away, you're going to have to try something else.”

“I'm not trying to push you away!” she said, making a cutting motion with her hand as she turned away to hide the tears in her eyes.

His eyebrows rose. “Yes, you are. I get it, you're scared.”

Azula wheeled on him, and her gaze was tortured. “No, you don't! I'm _terrified_ , Sokka! I don't know how to do this, and I don't know if I even can. I know I'll try to ruin it, like last night and--”

Sokka stepped close to her, cupping her cheek and stilling the almost panicked deluge. “Last night was a lot of things, Azula. Amazing. Unexpected. Perfect. But ruined? Not even a little. I feel so honored that you trusted me...that I could touch you, taste you like that... It's what you deserve. But if I pushed you—”

“You didn't! And I don't. I don't deserve...this... You... I...” she groped for words, lifting her hand and clutching his wrist tightly. “I can't do this...”

“Who says?” he demanded. Her eyes flicked down and to the side and she brushed her hands to her temple, a look of abject misery on her face. Sokka pulled her against his chest and wrapped his arms around her tightly, his face in her hair. “Don't listen to those voices. They're not real. And they're wrong.”

Azula buried her face in his chest and clutched him tightly. “I'm messed up, Sokka...”

“No, you're not.”

She pulled back with a jerk. “Yes, I am! I'm sick and you can't fix me by pretending I'm not! Stop doing that!”

Sokka's head dropped and he took a shaky breath. “I'm not pretending. I know you're sick. I know I can't fix what's wrong, but I want to help. I want to be there for you.”

“You can't.”

“Why not?”

But Azula pushed her head against his chest again and he tightened his arms around her. They swayed together, his face tucked into her hair as he held her. He stroked her hair as she shivered in his arms, and not from the cold.

“We'll figure this out, Azula. I promise. I do love you, please don't doubt it. I'd do anything for you.”

She pulled back and stared into his eyes. Then she stood on tiptoe and kissed him. It was a soft kiss, questing and sad. When she pulled back, she looked sad and lost.

“Sokka...” she started, and then looked away, but he lifted her chin with one thumb beneath it.

“I'm not telling you I love you just to hear it back, you know. If you can't say it, for whatever reason, I understand. And I'm not saying it expecting anything—anything at all. I'm saying it because I want you to know. I need you to know. I love you. No strings attached. I just do.”

Her lips parted and she took an unsteady breath. “Sokka...”

“Besides,” he said mischievously, as a smile slowly spread across his lips. “I _know_ you love me, too.”

Her eyebrow quirked at that. “Oh, you do, do you?”

“You talk in your sleep, my Princess,” he said teasingly.

“I do n—” she started to reply, but he swooped down and kissed her, lifting her clean off of her feet. His leg shook, but he ignored the echo of pain in it. Azula surprised him, wrapping her legs around his waist as he held her. She tasted of wind and sugar and cherries, always cherries. His hand found its way into her loose hair as she wrapped her arms as tightly around his shoulders as she had her legs.

Sokka turned them, sinking down onto the couch on one knee and setting her back. She didn't let go, drawing him over her. He sank down between her thighs, propping himself up on the cushion. He searched her face and then nuzzled her nose.

He kissed her hard, his heart soaring, blood roaring in his veins. When their mouths finally parted, he was panting. Azula's fingers caressed the back of his neck, a little smile on her lips.

“How do you do that?”

“What?” he asked.

“Make everything seem so simple, when its not.”

“I'm a simple guy,” he said jokingly, but he could see the soft sadness in her eyes. She smiled though and this time she didn't hide it behind her hand like she usually did. His heart clenched.

“No, you're not,” she said, and she pulled him down into the heat of her warm, soft kiss. He fell willingly, losing himself in her as easily as breathing. She held him tightly, her hands fisted in his thick shirt, her thighs pressing into his hips.

Sokka smiled against her lips and deepened the kiss. He was surprised when he felt her hands on the buttons of his shirt, but he didn't stop her when she undid them, her hands sliding in along his skin, soft, questing. He groaned into her mouth, his blood a hot rush.

He shrugged out of his shirt at her prompting, still kissing her as deeply as he dared. There was an edge to her kiss, something hungry in it that infected him. She made a hard, desperate mewl—almost a purr—and he broke off from her mouth, huffing out a laugh.

“What's so funny?” she asked as her fingers sank into the hard muscle of his back. Her voice was muzzy and confused.

“You... You just know how to surprise me, that's all,” he said warmly, nuzzling her mouth with his own.

“It's you, you idiot. I blame you entirely. I wasn't like this until I met you,” she said, and he saw the tips of her ears go red as he looked down at her, lying there beneath him.

“Oh, I think you were always an absolute hedonist, Princess Azula...maybe you just needed reminded of that fact,” he said with a rumble that he knew she would love. He wasn't wrong. She grasped his ponytail with one hand and lifted into him, her bottom lip dragging along his.

“No, it's you.”

“I'm just egotistical enough to take the credit then,” he laughed against her lips and then there was no more room for talking. No more room for anything but kissing her.

It didn't go any farther than that, but it was enough. She was more than enough.

She was everything.


	6. Six

****Azula's nerves jangled as loud laughter erupted around the low table. She clutched her spoon and glanced up at her uncle, who was laughing uproariously to Sokka's story. The rest of the people at the table—Sokka's father Hakoda, his stepmother Malina, his grandmother, step-grandfather, and a man named Bato, were all laughing and talking over the little feast his grandmother had put together for Sokka's homecoming.

The food was good; the best she'd had in months, but her stomach was churning.

It hadn't worked. Her plan to push Sokka away had been weak from the start and she'd known it, but she'd had to try. Something. Anything. If she could just convince him she wasn't what he wanted, then she could...

Could what? Leave him?

The very thought was like a knife in her heart, but hadn't that always been looming in her future? She'd spent hours out in the snow this afternoon, running through it all in her mind, and nothing had made sense. And it didn't matter anyway, because Sokka had torn through her arguments with a confidence that scared her.

He knew how he felt, and he knew what he wanted.

Sokka was in love with her. He wouldn't let her go, not without a fight. And a part of her—the largest part—wanted to let him win that fight. She wanted to stay with him, whatever that meant. She wanted to see what this thing between them could become. She wanted give herself to him, to lose herself in him...to admit to him that she loved him.

And yet.

And yet she _couldn't._

She couldn't for so many reasons.

But he was _so good_ at making her forget those reasons, as if they meant nothing at all. A whimper, a fleeting panic... In the force of his love, he made her forget just about everything, and some things she shouldn't forget, _couldn't._ But she wanted to.

She wanted it all, and that didn't seem right to her. When had she become someone who _wanted_ things? When had she become a _person_ again? Had he done that to her, or had he just showed her how? Had she done it herself? Did she want that to have happened? Did she want to be a part of the world again?

She didn't know. Everything was confused and colored only with her emotions for him. Her need and the desperate, lonely ache that just wouldn't go away, no matter how hard she tried. She wanted the world to make sense again. She wanted control, and not the false control the pain of cutting her flesh had brought her.

She wanted to be whole. Sokka couldn't give that to her, no matter how much he loved her, and she knew it.

She was the only one who could.

The laughter at the table sharpened as Sokka animatedly told the story of how he'd gotten the scar on his head from the collapse of the mine on Black Rock. It wasn't a funny story—not to her anyway—but the way Sokka told it made it seem funny, as if him nearly dying had been a great big adventure. Maybe he did see it that way, but she could still remember how it had felt, watching him at that little hospital, bloody bandages on his head, insensible...and that snake Rian looking at him like he'd like to smother him...

It wasn't a happy memory for her, but the incident in the mine had been the first time she'd realized her feelings for Sokka had changed. Even now, that change had bewildered her. It still did.

How had she fallen so deeply in love with this man that it hurt to breathe when she looked at him sometimes?

But she knew. She hadn't stood a chance, not really. Not once she got to know him. Everything about him made her melt. Her old self would have sneered at her weakness. She didn't know who she was now, but whoever she was, she was _Sokka's_. Even if she wouldn't admit it.

She laughed a little when eyes turned on her, but kept her head down. She felt jumpy, and the noise in the room was making everything spin around her dizzily. She dimly realized what was happening, as sweat beaded down the middle of her back. She clutched her fists in her lap as the conversation moved to Iroh, who launched in about a story involving the Earth King, who had brought his bear to the tea shop one day.

Apparently, the beast had gone insane over Iroh's honeycakes, and smashed up half the shop. The table exploded with laughter again and Azula flinched, hitching in a breath. Her stomach folded over the savory fish stew she'd been enjoying.

Hands came down on hers, rough and warm and familiar. She clutched Sokka's fingers and looked up at him, at the questioning look in his clever blue eyes.

“Hey,” he said softly, in that rumbling way that told her that he understood what was going on in her mind perfectly. He was always so good at reading her. He lifted his eyebrow and nodded toward the door with a clear question.

Gratitude flooded her and she nodded as Sokka squeezed her hand and then waited for a lull in the conversation.

“Well, it's getting late. I think Azula and I going to turn in early. Would you excuse us?” Sokka said, much to his father's surprise.

“Going so soon?”

“The food was delicious, but I think I'm more exhausted than I realized,” Sokka said, lurching to his feet. He was still favoring his leg, which wasn't fully healed yet. He shouldn't have been walking on it, but he was stubbornly ignoring that advice. Azula stood with him, trying not to show the others how wide her eyes were, or how close she was to breaking down into a full on anxiety attack.

Sokka's father, who had politely asked her a few reserved questions when they'd arrived, turned sharp eyes on her. Eyes too like his son's. He peered at her and she knew that he, at least, could see the panic in her eyes. The corners of his mouth dragged down a little, but he didn't say anything.

They made their escape as soon as Sokka got his thick fur coat on. The icy wind slapped her in the face and she breathed out in a long white stream of relief as the darkness enveloped them. Sokka's hand touched her back as she trembled on the doorstep. He took her hand and lifted it to his chest.

She couldn't feel his heartbeat beneath his thick coat, but she knew it was there.

“Breathe, Princess,” he said in a low voice. She took a breath and pressed her palm to his chest, willing her nerves to settle, for the feelings of being trapped to pass.

“I'm sorry, it was... It was too much,” she started, shaking her head, but Sokka's face was full of understanding.

“I understand,” he said, his voice soft as he turned her, putting one arm around her shoulders. “I should have realized.”

“It's not your fault,” she said as she felt his lips on her forehead. “It's mine, I...”

“No, it's not,” he said forcefully, cupping her face. He smiled at her, gently. “Besides, I think Gran-Gran was going to force-feed me if we'd stayed. You'd have to roll me home.”

“Me too,” she said, feeling disconcerted as her stomach flipped over and over in the backwash of her anxiety. “She kept putting food on my plate, and telling me I was too skinny.”

“She liked you, I think. The more she likes you, the more food she gives you,” he teased and caressed her face. His eyes searched hers. “Are you feeling better?”

She took a self-assessment; the shaking was subsiding and the feeling of panic had lessened. She didn't feel short of breath any longer, either. “I think so.”

“Good. Come on... I'm freezing my balls off,” he said with gusto, putting one arm around her waist and guiding her down the frozen walk to the rutted lane that served as a road. “So what did you really think of Gran-Gran?”

The sun had set, and long purple shadows stretched out across the snowy ground, nestling in the hollows of the rutted landscape. Overhead the stars were like chips of ice, sprinkled across a black lake. There was no moon, but the snow seemed to glow on its own, lighting the dug out path to the packed road.

“She grilled me for ten minutes about my intentions toward you,” Azula said, her lips twisting as Sokka laughed, his breath smoking out in a great huff.

“Yeah, that sounds like Gran-Gran,” he said, taking her hand in his gloved one as he limped along.

“I think I liked her,” she admitted, feeling entirely nonplussed. The old woman had looked at her with kindness, not suspicion, and had welcomed her warmly enough. Sokka's father, on the other hand...

Hakoda hadn't been rude to her, but he'd definitely been watching her warily. She had a feeling he was waiting for her to do... _something._ She had a feeling he'd known how close she was to breaking down in a full on anxiety attack. He didn't approve of her, no matter Sokka said. Sokka hadn't seemed to have noticed and no one else had commented on it.

Maybe she'd imagined it, but she doubted it.

And somehow, his disapproval _mattered_ to her. She wanted Hakoda to like her, because she could see how important he was to his son. That feeling was a new one for her, and she had no idea how to even process it.

“Not even here a day and you're already charming my grandmother. I'm impressed,” Sokka said teasingly. “What do you think of the place?”

She glanced around the darkened lane, with its little huddled homes encased in ice, and the warm light glowing in the windows. At the icebergs visible in the distance, and the ice chip stars. It was cold and remote and alien to her, and she felt very small against all that cold expanse. Standing at the shore this afternoon, she'd felt like she was on another planet altogether.

And she'd felt like she was being watched, but maybe that had just been her own paranoia at work.

“I don't know. It's...different,” she conceded.

“Could you call it home?” Sokka asked, stopping and pulling her around to clasp both of her hands in his own. He looked at her seriously.

Her heart kipped several beats.

“Sokka...” she started, stalling for time, her breath a twisty ghost in the air between them.

“I know it's a hard place to love, but there's beauty here, and a life worth living if you're strong enough. Or maybe just too stubborn for your own good. You have to love it to endure it.”

She felt her throat close. She had a feeling he wasn't talking about his home at all.

“You know, being back at the palace was strange. Zuko told me I could come back, but...it's not home. This is your home, and I can see why you love it, but I don't know where home is. I don't know what that feels like.”

But that was a lie. Home was wherever Sokka was, and she knew it in her heart.

“I want my home to be wherever you are,” Sokka said, lifting her bare hands to his lips. He breathed on them, though they weren't cold, despite the arctic chill in the air.

Sadness filled her. There was such longing in his ice-blue eyes. She had watched him all throughout dinner, watched him watching her with his family, with this little half-smile on his lips. He'd looked contented. He'd looked...

 _Like he's in love with me,_ _no matter how hard I try to convince him otherwise_ , she thought and a pang ran through her guts. _Like he wants to make a life with me, but how can I do that? I don't even know how._ _I love him, but what if it's not enough?_

“I think you're getting ahead of yourself. We still have to get you healed and get back to Zuko. He's probably running around with his head cut off as we speak.”

Sokka huffed out a little laugh and hung his head. “Well, I hope his head is still attached, at least. But you're probably right. We'll figure this... _us_...out after the Smoke Demons are six feet under. I'm in no hurry. Like I said, we have the rest of our lives to figure us out.”

“Right,” she said hollowly, though he didn't seem to notice. He leaned forward and kissed her between the eyes. When she tilted her head, he nuzzled her mouth with his own, teasing her with the barest brush of a kiss. Desire ran through her, like a river of molten lava, scorching her to the tips of her toes. The last of her near-panic attack whimpered and retreated.

Memory, of his hot, deep kisses that afternoon, came running through her head. It hadn't gone any further than kissing, but it had sparked fires in her belly. The need for _more_ hadn't left her all evening. And the memory of his mouth between her legs, the pleasure he'd so easily conjured beneath her flesh... She shivered in his arms, and it wasn't from the cold.

The sudden rush of desire emboldened her tongue, and she let her need slip out.

“Take me home, Sokka,” she whispered against his lips, stroking the back of his shaved head. Sokka kissed her gently, like a warm, lapping wave. It was a promise for more. She wanted more. She wanted so much more, and she knew Sokka could feel it. Desire ran through like, connecting them.

When Sokka pulled away, she could see his desire burning in his eyes. He took her hand and together they slipped and slid down the grainy, rutted lanes cut through the hummocks of snow that passed as streets here in the Southern Water Tribe.

As they drew nearer to Sokka's house, she noticed a red haze on the horizon, and thought for a moment that it was the last remnants of the setting sun. The sun went down a lot quicker here, and it stayed dark longer, she'd noticed. Still, the sun had set hours ago, while they'd been at dinner, she was sure of it...

Sokka noticed the red haze and skidded to a halt, his eyes wide.

“Sokka?”

“ _Fire_ ,” he breathed and glanced at her. There was alarm in his gaze for a moment, and then he was off and running in the direction of the red glow.

She followed a half a step behind, fear banging in her chest. It didn't take them long to reach the source of the flames and they skidded to a halt together before Sokka's hut, watching the flames leaping from the broken windows, turning the snow black as ash rained down.

“No...” Sokka breathed, starting forward, but she caught his hand, stopping him.

“Sokka—”

“My house!”

“Sokka!”

“We have to—”

“SOKKA!” she whipped him around, fear tightening her voice as Sokka's wild gaze latched onto hers. She grabbed his face, her hands shaking. “Sokka, they're here! The Smoke Demons followed us!”

Her words sunk in and Sokka's face paled in the flickering firelight.

Then, as if in a nightmare, Sokka cried out in pain, and fell into her arms, a dagger buried in his back.

It happened so suddenly, she just stared at it in shock, at the red staining the back of his coat, and Sokka's grunt as his weight bore her to the ground.

“SOKKA! No, no, no, no...” she mumbled as everything rushed by her in a blur of red and white and blue. His blood. So much blood. Why?

She looked up at the fire pouring from the little domed house and it was like someone had kicked her in the chest. Fire. So much fire.

Fire everywhere. Children screaming. The baby. The baby screaming in pain. The building collapsing. Trees bursting into flame with a hot pop. Bones beneath her feet. Ashes.

Her fault. It was her fault. It was all her fault and she was lost, lost and falling...

“Run... Run, Azula...” Sokka forced out as she grasped his face, drawn with pain and fear. Fear for her. “It's him. Don't let him...”

“Don't let me _what?_ ” a familiar voice said. Her head snapped up and she breathed out, anger sparking in her eyes as Rian swaggered out from behind Sokka's burning home. “Kill him? Too late for that, clearly.”

She looked up at Rian and saw the gleeful smile on his face. Saw the lust and malice there. He looked too familiar then. Too like the men she'd met on that road in the Green Heart. Her panic redoubled and she stopped breathing entirely, clutching Sokka to her. Blood was spreading on the snow beneath him as he choked and coughed.

She needed to move, to act, to do anything... But she couldn't. Fear overcame her and she struggled just to catch her breath, to make her lungs work again.

“ _Run_ , Azula...” Sokka said, struggling to get up. He'd pulled his own knife out of his belt, but his hand was shaking.

“There's no more running, Tazeo. Or Sokka. Whoever you are, I don't really fucking care. I was told to kill you and take Iroh, but since he's not here... I guess I'll make due,” Rian walked forward, confidently drawing near. He stepped on Sokka's hand and the knife loosened from his fingers. “I'm through playing games. I want what's _mine_.”

Rian kicked the knife away and then reached down, grasping Azula by the hair. She was too numb with shock to resist him—and she realized, in some far off part of her mind—that her panic attack was roaring back over her, incapacitating her. At Rian's touch it erupted like volcano.

She cried out as he dragged her up out of the snow and away from Sokka, gasping as her lungs drew in a desperate, cold breath. With the cold came a searing sense of unreality.

But this was real. Sokka was going to die if she didn't do something. If she didn't focus and fight this. If she didn't get control.

“My Princess,” Rian snarled and brought his mouth down to hers in a crushing kiss that she couldn't escape.

But only for a moment.

Her shock wore off. Rage flowed through her like a river, sparking up beneath her skin as her thinking mind came rushing back to her through the haze of panic and fear that had nearly crippled her, that had nearly cost her everything. It rippled and sparked and grew into a white-hot heat that begged to pour of her, to destroy the world.

She wasn't helpless. She wasn't that girl from the forest that day, too weak with hunger and dehydration to fight back. She wasn't weakened from a concussion. She wasn't the girl who had hidden from the world, too broken to put herself back together.

She was Azula. She was one of the most powerful Firebenders in the world.

She was a force of fucking nature.

And she wasn't Rian's princess.

Azula grasped Rian and pulled him even closer. For a moment, she could sense that Rian thought she was capitulating, kissing him back. That he thought he had won...that she wanted him...

She smiled against his lips, sharp and bloodthirsty. And then she ripped him apart.


	7. Seven

Everything was chaos and flame.

Iroh skidded a halt in the snowy lane, a half a step behind Master Pakku, who cursed under his breath. Iroh surveyed the scene, with his mouth half-open.

Sokka's house was on fire, flames guttering from the small round windows and licking up toward the starry black sky. There were people standing before it, shouting in fear, but no one had moved to try and put out the flames yet, and it was clear why.

No one wanted to come any closer to the wild creature standing in a circle of melted snow before the house. There was a body at her feet, which was on fire, moving feebly, and choking with pain. Lightning sparked off of her, licking at the snow, the air, her hair.

There was no sense in Azula's wild eyes, which seemed lit with a rage as hot as the flames pouring out of the house behind her. Her hands shook as she stared down at the burning man at her feet.

Iroh breathed out, feeling the same panic in her gaze infect him for a moment. Then he shut down the expression and caught Pakku's eye. His old friend seemed to understand, and he went for the house, Bending a huge snowbank into a deluge of water, which he sent toward the flames.

Iroh started forward, but Hakoda was there, grasping his arm.

“She's mad!” Hakoda yelled over the sound of the blaze. “The lightning—“

“She will not harm me,” Iroh said with more certainty than he felt, even as he spotted the figure lying in a pool of snow behind Azula for the first time. “Sokka is hurt. Get to him, let me handle my niece!”

Hakoda cried out upon seeing his son and let go of Iroh's arm.

“Princess Azula...” Iroh started, walking carefully over the slippery snow. He could see Pakku working out of the corner of his eye, Bending more snow to put out the flames. Other men came to help him, passing buckets of water in the traditional way, as there were still so few Waterbenders in the Southern Water Tribe. “Look at me, Azula...”

Azula's head came up, though lightning arced from her fingertips and into the snow. The man at her feet was no longer moving. Iroh ignored him, keeping Azula's gaze. He noticed blood and ash on her lips, dripping starkly red against her pale skin. Her chest heaved, her teeth coated in blood.

“Please...” he started, holding out his hands placatingly. “You are frightening these people... Please, calm yourself, my niece. The danger has passed and your enemy has fallen.”

He edged closer, noting Hakoda circling her, attempting to get to Sokka's side. Azula noticed the movement, and swung on the Chief.

Iroh knew what was going to happen and launched himself forward, rolling across the snow and coming up between Hakoda and Azula just as she unleashed a powerful blast of electric blue lightning.

He fell automatically into the form, catching the lightning on his outstretched fingers, channeling it through him and then tossing it harmlessly at the vast chasm of the sky, all while another figure moved up silently behind Azula faster than she could react. A sword flashed, and she slumped to the ground, revealing Bato behind her.

Electricity sparked on her hands and then died out as she lay there in the snow.

Bato, who had been the one to alert them all that something had happened at Sokka's, bent over Azula, hesitated, and checked her pulse.

“Is she okay?” Iroh slumped in place, feeling all of his years, and every extra pound he'd managed to pack on over the years all of a sudden. He had gotten soft at his tea shop. Much too soft.

“Yes,” Bato said grimly, glancing up at his Chief, but Hakoda had rushed to Sokka's side.

“Sokka? Sokka...” his father said urgently, touching Sokka's ashen face. “Malina!”

Malina came rushing over, now that the danger had passed, and fell to her knees before her step-son. She examined him, even as Sokka's eyes fluttered open and he coughed out a ragged mouthful of stringy blood.

“Sokka!” Hakoda exclaimed. “Son, are you alright?”

“Azula...” Sokka said in a thready voice that wheezed. “Where is she? Rian— Rian grabbed her and...”

“She's...” Hakoda started, glancing up. Then his face firmed into hard lines. “She's fine.”

“I need her...”

“You need healing,” Hakoda said roughly and glanced at Malina, who was examining the dagger stuck in Sokka's back. “How bad is it?”

“Bad enough, but he'll live. We need to get him inside,” Malina said.

“I'll get a stretcher,” Bato said, and rushed off, calling to a few other men, who followed him. Pakku and the others were still putting out the fire, and those that were not helping were watching the scene with looks of horror on their faces.

Most of those looks were cast at Azula. Iroh limped toward her and pulled her head into his lap. She was feverishly warm and static electricity clung to her skin as he touched her pale face.

“Oh, my niece...what have you done?” he murmured, glancing at the body everyone had been avoiding looking at so far, and it wasn't hard to see why. It was a gruesome sight.

The man had been alive when they'd first arrived, but he was plainly dead now. His skin was charred, split and forked by lightning, chased by fire. His lips were blackened and peeled back from his teeth, which were bared in a bloody, obscene grin. His hair was charred and crumbling in the stark white snow and his clothing had burned in patches, revealing mottled skin that had been charred from within. His fingers showed stark white bone where the flesh had been seared away.

Iroh had seen something like this before, long ago, during the War. He had hoped to never see it again. He stroked Azula's face and bowed low over her, the smell of burned flesh in his nostrils, both in memory and reality.

Hakoda took charge of the scene, ordering people to get more buckets, though the fire was almost out. Sokka's house was a smoldering ruin. There would be no saving it. Bato returned with a stretcher, and they bore Sokka away, with Malina attending him closely.

The Chief came over to him then, and crouched down before the body. He examined the man closely, rolling his head to the side. There, just visible through the burnt skin, was the tattoo of a black flame on his neck.

“A Smoke Demon,” Iroh said heavily. “They are all marked so. They were attacked. She defended him. She defended them both. If she hadn't... She may well have saved Sokka's life.”

Hakoda looked up, his blue eyes grave. “I realize that, General Iroh, but you saw her. She was out of control. She might have killed someone innocent. She _did_ try to kill me and I cannot overlook that. She is a danger to my people. That is very clear to me.”

“She was provoked,” Iroh said.

“Perhaps, but I've felt she was a time bomb from the moment Sokka brought her here, and my suspicions have only been proven tonight,” Hakoda sighed. He closed his eyes and rubbed at the deep furrow between his thick brows. “Were she anyone else, and had she not acted in self-defense, I would banish her from the Tribe, just to keep my people safe.”

“But you will not?”

“No, she will not be banished, but I am wary of having her here, among my people She could have killed more than this Smoke Demon tonight.”

“Sokka—”

“Sokka is not Chief of this tribe, and thinks only with his heart,” Hakoda said, as Bato came walking back The fire was out, but smoke threaded toward the sky in thick, pungent flumes. “If he disagrees with my judgment, then that is a matter between us.”

“I will take her, if she wishes to leave,” Iroh said sadly. “But not before Sokka is well enough to see her.”

Hakoda licked his lips and nodded. “Very well. Bato?”

“Sokka has been taken to your home. They were pulling out the dagger when I left. Another healer's hands would helpful, if Pakku is finished here.”

“I can be spared now. The fire is out,” Pakku said, and excused himself with a bow. Iroh watched him go, as Bato bent over the body in the snow, examining it carefully. He had a shrewd expression on his face.

“You know, it strikes me that he might not be the only one of these Demons to have followed them from the Fire Nation. We should gather a hunting party, Chief Hakoda. There may be more lurking about.”

“You're right. Call our warriors. We will meet in the square within the half hour. Send someone to take this body away, as well. I need to look after my son first,” Hakoda said, as Bato nodded and took off. Hakoda then looked long and hard at Azula, his expression unreadable for the moment. He seemed to come suddenly to some decision and, leaning forward, he scooped her into his arms and hefted her against his chest as he stood.

Her head lolled back and she moaned weakly, but didn't wake. A confused expression crossed Hakoda's face and he said wonderingly, “She looks so innocent.”

“She is, in many ways,” Iroh said sadly. “Hers has been a hard road, Chief Hakoda. Do not judge her too harshly, for things beyond her control.”

“It's her lack of control that I fear,” Hakoda frowned and together they walked back toward Hakoda's home. Every step felt infinitely heavy to Iroh, and heartache followed behind them, the faintest scent of fire and ruin draping over them like shadows.

* * *

 

Azula climbed out of nightmares, screaming as she dug her fingers into her own flesh just to stop the flashes of lurid, painful memories from flooding over her like boiling water. Gasping, she rolled over and threw up in hot gushes, her whole body cramping up around her aching middle.

Someone murmured soothingly to her, stroking her hair back. Sweat drenched her skin. She felt raw, inside and out, like someone had grated her flesh along barbed wire. She drank something cool and soothing, and then passed back into her nightmares.

She woke again some time later, judging by the weak sunlight slanting in through the windows, but she still felt feverish, and everything came at her confusing flashes. Iroh was there, speaking to her in a low voice, soothing her, tipping broth down her throat. A woman she faintly recognized as Sokka's stepmother helped her to bathroom. Then she was gone again, too racked by fever to push out the questions she knew she should be asking.

She was afraid of the answers. Afraid of what had happened after Rian had kissed her. Her hazy, lightning-seared memories told her everything. She had killed again, and she had laughed while he'd burned...

And Sokka...

She sobbed into her pillow, too afraid to follow that thought. There had been blood. So much blood. She passed back into nightmares, and everything became confused. She was in Rinchaka Falls, and the trader's wagons were on fire, blown apart. The children were screaming. And the men from the Green Heart were laughing, holding her down, filling her mouth with dirt as she tried, and failed, to call for Sokka, though she reached for him, desperately, valiantly...

Someone tipped something fiery and warm into her mouth, that tasted faintly medicinal. The same soothing voice as before calmed her screams until she fell into a dreamless, empty void. There she drifted for some time, alone and exposed.

When she finally woke again, she was alone and it was night. She was in an unfamiliar room, with a fire burning low in a blackened stone hearth. She licked lips dry and cracked and swallowed, then coughed as her throat seemed to stick closed. She coughed and rolled over, her head spinning.

A ceramic mug of water sat at her beside, and she grasped it, gulping it down greedily, her hands shaking as she did. When she put it down, the door opened a crack, and a knock sounded on the wood. “Princess Azula? Are you awake?”

“Come in, Uncle,” she croaked, clutching her head. There was a throbbing pain on the back of her head, and her fingers encountered a knot there when they groped through her tangled hair. “How long—?”

“Four days,” Iroh said, his mouth a grim line beneath his wiry, iron-gray beard. He looked careworn, and tired. “You have been ill, but your fever passed some hours ago. Much has happened in that time...”

She passed a hand over her face, screwing up her eyes as she felt tears threaten them. “Sokka?”

Iroh sat down beside her and took her hand. His smile was tight, but kind. “He is recovering. The dagger in his back nearly punctured his left lung, but his thick fur coat prevented it from going too deeply. The wound was grievous, however, and he'll be recovering for a while. He's been asking after you. Demanding to see you, actually.”

She breathed out in relief, though tears spilled over her eyes. She wiped at them, but they wouldn't stop coming. He was alive! Sokka was alive!

“And... And Rian? The man who attacked us?”

Iroh hesitated and then reached out, taking her hand gently. “Dead. Chief Hakoda's men found his airship, marked with the Smoke Demon's black flame, some distance from the village. We have found no evidence that he was working with anyone else. And what is more—” he started, but she cut him off.

“I killed him.”

Iroh opened his mouth and then looked down at their hands. “Yes, you did.”

“I don't regret it,” she said, though her voice was shaking. Tears fell hotly down her cheeks.

Her uncle looked up at her and there was sorrow and understanding there. He gathered her into his arms and pulled her against his shoulder. She struggled for a moment and then pushed her face into his shoulder, sobbing, though she wasn't sure why.

Rian had tried to kill Sokka, several times. He had looked at her the way those men in the Green Heart had. He had touched her. He would have hurt her. She'd had no choice, and yet...

Iroh spoke in the same soothing voice as he had when she'd been wracked with the fever, stroking her hair. It was the strangest feeling, an almost fatherly gesture, and it broke down every barrier in her mind. She cried on his shoulder until she had nothing left.

Iroh made her lay down again, but she didn't want to sleep. She clutched his hand, afraid he would leave her. She didn't want to be alone.

“What else has happened, Uncle?”

“Some good news, I'm glad to report. This morning we received a messenger hawk from Fire Lord Zuko. He didn't know where we had gone after we left the Fire Nation, but it seems he guessed our destination correctly. The Smoke Demons have been routed and arrested. Their leader has been captured, and their plot uncovered.”

Iroh made a strange face, and glanced at her with turbulent eyes.

“Who was it?”

“Lady Shura. And her sons, it seems.”

Azula's eyes widened and she sat up, even though it made her head spin. “WHAT?”

“I had much the same reaction,” Iroh mused, though there was no humor in his gaze. “It seems this whole business was my fault. I knew Shura was power-hungry, but I always reckoned her to be a bit of a silly old cow, with nothing more dangerous up her sleeves than vicious gossip. It seems she's been using her late husband's considerable wealth to gather dissidents to her banner. She intended to win the throne somehow. She had many different schemes to make this happen, but her ultimate plot, in the end, was to have Zuko abdicate, disown you, and name me heir. And she was going to hold Zuko hostage until I married her.”

“She wanted to _marry_ you?”

“Yes, and make her sons my heirs. That, Zuko thinks, was truly her deepest wish. Her sons were more important to her than her position. They were all of them killed in the fighting. It's a long and bloody tale, which can be told another night. You need your rest, Princess Azula...”

“Did he say anything about Ty Lee?”

Iroh brightened at that. “He did! She is in recovery. Your young friend will be fine.”

A worry she hadn't realized had been gnawing at her since they'd left the Fire Nation loosened. Ty Lee had made it. She breathed out, one hand over her heart in relief. She might have wondered at that that, but she was too exhausted to look past her relief.

One day, she knew, she would have to make things right with Ty Lee.

“And the Avatar—?”

“Our letter arrived too late to do Zuko any good, although Aang is no doubt on his way to the Fire Nation to do what he can. We have not heard news from him just yet.”

“I'm sure you want to go to Zuko, too.”

A shadow passed over Iroh's face. “He has asked me to stay away for now. Just until they are sure all of the Smoke Demons have been caught.”

“They won't catch them all.”

“No, I fear not,” Iroh said grimly. “But the main threat has passed. Shura will pay for her crimes.”

Azula thought a moment. “That's why the Smoke Demons ordered us to kill that man, Kato Sanyi, at Lady Shura's birthday party. Shura wanted to see him die. It was _personal_. I thought her party was just convenient. And Sokka saved her son's life at the party!. No wonder he knew who I was! If only we'd guessed... We were so close!”

“You couldn't have known, Azula. You did the best with what you were given. We all have. There has been much grief over this whole affair, and death. Too many deaths,” Iroh said and bowed his head. He hesitated again and then glanced at her. “There is... There is something else I wish to discuss with you.”

“What?”

“Chief Hakoda... Well, he is concerned. You are staying in his home, and he... He was concerned for the safety of his family.”

Azula sat up straighter. Her middle felt very cold all of a sudden. “Because I lost control.”

Iroh's gaze flitted to hers and then away. “Yes.”

“He's right.”

“No, he isn't.”

“Yes, he is, Uncle. I lost control. I don't remember much beyond Rian grabbing me, but... But I was out of control. It's happened before, when I was scared and threatened. Did I hurt anyone?”

“No one but this Rian person,” Iroh said and then grimaced. “You... You nearly threw lightning at Sokka's father. I believe you saw him as a threat to Sokka, but I redirected the blast, and no harm was done to either of us. Hakoda's friend Bato knocked you out while you were distracted.”

She felt the lump at the back of her head again and breathed out. “I could have killed Sokka's father.”

“You did not.”

“But I could have. I tried to.”

“You were not yourself.”

“If I'm not me, then who I am, Uncle? A murderer? Crazy? Untrustworthy? I don't know. I never know. I couldn't stop myself. I don't even remember it! I'm dangerous,” she said, her voice breaking as she hung her head. “I need help, Uncle...and I can't drag Sokka down with me.”

Her voice was small and sad, but there it was. She had already known it, hadn't she? It was the reason she had tried to put space between herself and Sokka, to make it easier when she left him. No matter how much she wanted to stay. No matter how much she loved him.

Leaving him was the only choice she had. But did she have the strength to do it?

Iroh squeezed her hand tightly. “You are not thinking clearly, niece.”

She closed her eyes, a tear slipping down her cheek as she nodded. “Yes, I am. Hakoda's right. I need to leave. As soon as possible.” She looked up at him and her gaze was steady. For the first time in a long time, she could see her path laid out for her, and she chose it with both eyes open. “Would you take me to Ba Sing Se?”

Iroh's deeply lined face was solemn, and there was heartbreak in his eyes. “If that is what you wish, niece. And...Sokka?”

She felt pain lance through her heart, even as she stood on wobbly legs. Her head swam, but she ignored it, turning away from her uncle.

“I've made my choice, Uncle. Just... Just be ready to go at first light.”

Iroh looked like he wanted to argue, but nodded and bowed out of the room, leaving her standing there, shaking, her heart shattered, but her mind made up.


	8. Eight

Sokka woke out of a light doze when the door of his room opened. He opened his eyes, expecting to see his father, or his stepmother, coming to check on him, but his heart soared when he saw Azula standing hesitantly at the door. She was wearing a blue robe. One of Katara's, he was sure.

“Azula?” he said sleepily, and then a grin split his mouth. He sat up, wincing with pain as the stitches in his back pulled tightly. “Azula! You're better? I've been trying to get them to let me see you for days, but they told me you had a fever, and they don't seem to think I can walk on my own. How are you? I've been worried sick.”

Azula's honey eyes were wet in the flickering light of the fire burning in the little hearth as she stared at him for a long moment. His smile faltered, a feeling of dread seeping through him.

“What's wrong?”

“I was afraid... Afraid you were...” she choked out and then launched herself across the room and into his arms. He eagerly buried his face in her slightly damp hair. He had missed her. Only the pain meds had allowed him to fall asleep without her warmth beside him.

“I'm okay,” he murmured as she burrowed her face against his chest, shaking. She wasn't crying, but he could feel some emotion passing through her that he couldn't name. There was something odd about the look in her eyes when she lifted her head. “Hey, I'm all right. Malina's a good healer.”

“Uncle said you were, but...” she shook her head and then said tightly. “You keep getting hurt.”

“Hey, I'm not dead yet. I call that win. Although I might have known that bastard Rian would stab me in the back. He knew he couldn't take me on in a fair fight.”

“You wouldn't have fought him fairly.”

“Well, no. I'm not an idiot.”

“Yes, you are. You idiot,” she said and then gave a half-laugh, half-sob, which she hid behind her hand. “You're an idiot. What am I going to do with you?”

“I have a few ideas,” he said, waggling his eyebrows. “Maybe we can try a few of them out sometime?”

Her sad smile faltered behind her hand and she looked down. “Sokka... I'm sorry about your house.”

He shrugged a little. “It's just a house. Things can be replaced, but you can't be. We're both alive, that's what matters.”

“But I'm still sorry.”

He pushed her dark hair back behind her ear and smiled softly at her. “Don't.”

She looked up at him, startled. “Don't what?”

“Do that thing where you blame yourself for what happened out there. That was Rian's fault, not yours.”

“Your father doesn't seem to think so.”

Sokka frowned. He and his father had had a few words about Azula. Hakoda had to him he wanted to send her away, but she'd fallen ill. He was worried about the safety of the tribe. They'd had a quite a fight over it.

“Yeah well, I told _Chief Hakoda_ where he can stick his attitude. I told him that if you weren't welcome here, then neither was I. He won't bother you again,” he said bitterly. He'd meant it, and his father had known it. He'd backed down after that. Things between them were tense, but Sokka wasn't about to apologize.

“He's right to hate me,” she mumbled.

“No, he's not. And besides, he doesn't hate you. He's just... He has to worry about the tribe. And he doesn't know what to make of you. He doesn't know you like I do. Give him a chance, he'll come around.”

Azula seemed to be studying his face, as if they had been apart for months, not days. He felt warmth spread in his limbs at her nearness. He had missed her, like a phantom limb. She seemed to be trying to work up to something, and he could see words tumbling around in her head.

“Iroh told me about Shura, and Zuko's letter.”

“Yeah, seems they saved the day. Kinda wish we'd been there to help, but I guess we had troubles of our own.”

“We always do,” she said tightly, her fingers against her lips. He noticed that she was trembling. He wondered what was going through her head. He could sense that something was bothering her, but he couldn't put his finger on what it was.

“Shura was the lady with the big boobs, right?” Sokka said, miming a pair of gigantic breasts. “Not that I was looking.”

“Sure, you weren't,” she said, and a genuine laugh left her. Sokka grinned, pulling her down onto the bed with him. He turned over on his side as Azula settled in next to him, laying her head against his chest as he put his arm around her.

“Well, maybe I looked a little,” he admitted, and she smacked his stomach. “I can't believe she was the Demon's Head.”

“Neither can Uncle. She was always obsessed with him, though.”

“Like Rian with you. He was going to take you. I don't know what for. Shura would have had you killed. Maybe she was just using you as a reward, to control him?”

“I guess. It doesn't matter anymore,” she said quietly. “I don't want to talk about Rian. Just... Just hold me, Sokka.”

He looked down at her, frowning at the tightness in her voice. As if she was about it cry.

“Yes, my Princess.”

They lay like that for a long while. There was so much to say, but he found that none of it was important at the moment. Just being there with her was enough. She was quiet too, looping her fingers with his. He caressed her palm with his thumb and her breathing picked up a little.

“What would do, if you had all the money in the world, and you could go anywhere and do anything?” she asked suddenly. A little smile curled his lips at that, remembering another night when they had asked each other the same question.

He thought for a moment and then said softly, “I'd buy a little island and put up a little house...since I don't have one anymore. A big one. With a hot tub. I'd write bad poetry. I'd paint the seas. I'd invent useless gadgets. I'd raise pig-goats, and I'd fish every day. And I'd never wear pants.”

“Are you alone on this island?”

“No,” he said, his heart thumping hard. “No, I'm not alone.”

“Mermaids?”

He laughed, the sound rich and warm as she lifted her head. He cupped her face and nibbled on his lip. “No. No mermaids. My wife would be very jealous.”

Azula's eyes flickered in the warm glow of the firelight. “Sokka...”

He rubbed her cheek and smiled softly at her. “I'd marry you, Azula.”

A little cry left Azula, another half-sob. Then she slid her arms around him. It surprised him when she crushed her lips to his, but he sank his hand into her hair. Her kiss had an edge of desperation to it, a hunger that he matched with his own. He pulled her against his bare chest and she dug her fingers into his muscled arms, her touch as warm as a firebrand.

When she slid her hand down to his lower back, dipping into the back of his loose pants, he moaned, pulling back to meet her gaze.

“Azula?”

Her eyes blazed fiercely and she scooted closer in the bed, until her body was pressed along the length of his. She pushed her mouth against his, her breath hot and moist against his swollen lips. Sokka's eyes fluttered closed as her hand slid up his back in the slowest of caresses. It sent little shivers running through his skin, centering in his spine and spreading outward.

“Make love to me, Sokka.”

* * *

 

She felt the shudder go through Sokka as her words whispered against his lips. When he pulled back, there was a look of wonder on his face, but beneath that was sizzling desire.

“Are you sure?”

“ _Yes._ Your back?”

“Suddenly doesn't hurt at all,” he said and then he was kissing her again, pulling her hard against his chest. His big, rough hands spread on her back and down to her ass. When he pulled her over him, she eagerly straddled his lap.

Her heart was hammering hard in her chest, but there was no fear in her. No panic, no hesitation. She needed him, just for tonight, she needed him. It would only be this one time, and that would have to be enough.

She held him fiercely, kissing him hungrily as his hands slid up her legs, rucking up her borrowed robe. When he unbelted it, she yanked her arms free, eagerly letting her naked breasts spill into his waiting hands.

He laughed, soft and rough at the same time, at the sight of her naked beneath the robe.

“I think you were planning this.”

Her face burned and she looked away, guilt sparking bright and hot in her. She pushed it away and reached for him.

Sokka's touch was hesitant, as if afraid she'd shy away, as she had before. She didn't know how to tell him she wouldn't do that this time, that she _knew_ that she wouldn't. So she showed him. Her hands covered his on her breasts squeezing as she pulled on his bottom lip.

Sokka groaned, lifting up into her with a promise. Her breath scattered against his lips, the flame in her spine spreading to all of her limbs. It was a heat without end, and she ached to quench it, to find relief from it.

His thumbs brushed over her nipples, reverently, gently, until they were as hard as pebbles. When he pulled her up, his mouth dragging down her chin, her neck, and across her aching breasts, she gasped, grasping the little carved headboard. Sokka held her tightly to him, nuzzling her breasts, scattering moist kisses across her soft skin. Then he drew one of her nipples into his mouth and she bit down on her lip, a cry leaving her that she tried to stifle.

He suckled at each of her breasts in turn, and little eddies of pleasure swirled through her at the heady pull of his mouth. She clutched his head to her, shaking with each pull. When he released her, she captured his lips, her tongue swirling into his mouth. Her hair fell around them in thick sheet and he fisted his hands in it.

When she pulled back, dragging her mouth down his chin, he swallowed, his throat bobbing. His face was rough with stubble, and the prickle of it set her nerve endings on fire as she dragged her lips over it. His head tipped back when she kissed across his collarbone, pushing the blankets aside.

“Azula...”

His hand was still in her hair, but he wasn't guiding her. She dragged the edge of her teeth along his chest, the sound of his pleasure a rough groan that rumbled through his chest. His skin was salty and it spread with a tang across her tongue. She carefully avoided the bandage wrapped around his left shoulder, but he didn't act like it hurt.

He was too eager for her.

His pants were easily lost as she worked her way down his stomach, touching him, kissing him, where she had been dying to kiss him for so long. When she felt the nudge of his cock against her breast as she slid down, she eagerly wrapped her fingers around him. Sokka's hips lifted, filling her hand.

“You don't have to...” he started, even though his lids were half-mast, his need clear in his sparkling blues eyes beneath them, and in the arch of his hips into her working hand.

“I want to,” she said and bit down on her lip. “Tell me if I'm doing it wrong.”

“I don't think you can do it wrong, my Princess,” he said warmly, and the heat of his gaze spread through her. When she put her mouth on him, the sound he made was flattering, and she knew it would be seared into her memory.

He was warm and thick in her mouth, his taste spreading on her tongue. Slowly, she shaped him, gently pushing her mouth up and down. Sokka's hips rose to meet each pulse of her head, his movements shallow. He was watching her, his mouth open, a little smile at the corners of his lips. When he put his hand over hers, moving it up and down at the base of his shaft, she felt a deeper desire quake through her, centering between her legs.

“ _Fuck_ ,” Sokka choked in that rumbling voice that seemed to come from some dark depth within him. It sent shivers down her spine. Her mouth quickened, her hand following as Sokka's head dropped back. He breathed out, muscles of his stomach quivering. “Azula, I'm—”

But she knew what he was going to do, and she didn't withdraw. He came into her mouth with a hot flood and a jerk of his hips. She swallowed and licked every drop away from his hard, velvety skin, the taste of him making her moan.

When she withdrew, still stroking him in her fingers, Sokka sat up on his elbows and looked at her with a fiery expression in his blue eyes. He was still hard for her.

They stared at one another for a long moment. Then Sokka grasped her, pulling her to his mouth with a hard wrench that shocked a little laugh out of her. He kissed her, tongue swirling into her mouth, his hands tight in her hair.

When he lay back, pulling her with him, she gasped against this lips, breaking away as he gripped her hips and then roughly jerked her up the bed until she was sitting over his chest and face.

She stuttered out a breath as he buried his face between her legs, pulling her down until she was straddling his head. His tongue pushed and slid against her wet flesh. She clutched his loose hair, feeling the wet flick of his tongue against her flesh, slow and steady. He was in no hurry to pleasure her.

He thought they had all the time in the world.

A cry left her and she clamped down on it, squeezing her eyes shut. She pushed back her tears again and cried out his name instead. Slowly, so slowly she thought she might come out of her skin, he brought her to the brink.

She teetered, panting, writhing against the wet suction of his mouth against her throbbing clit. Then she broke, bending double as orgasm gripped her, ripping through her skin, through every pore and muscle and nerve. Sokka moaned, his tongue swirling in and out of her aching opening.

She trembled over him, biting down to keep her growing sense of desperation from overwhelming her. When Sokka moved her again, she went bonelessly. He sat up beneath her and he shifted her into the cradle of his lap. One of his hands spread on the back of her neck and he kissed her neck, her face, raining kissing across her cheeks, eyelids, her forehead.

“My Princess...” he mumbled against her lips. Then she was kissing him again, tasting herself on his lips. She felt him nudge at her opening as she shifted in his lap. She wrapped her arms around his neck, feeling the thick bandage on his back.

She reached between them and lifted up on her knees. Sokka broke the kiss, his hands spreading on her waist and back. Their gazes met and held. He seemed intent not to pressure her, waiting, his gaze searching hers. There was a fierce light in his eyes and she felt his emotions roll over her like a thunderstorm, bright and hot. She could see how much he loved her, there in his eyes.

Sokka loved her.

He loved her.

She kissed him as she eased down onto his length. Her body shook, overwhelmed by the feeling of his thickness coring her. But the sensation faded soon enough, replaced by a hot, wet need as she worked her hips backward and forward, taking him in the most shallow of thrusts.

Sokka's lips worked against hers, kissing her, deep and long, until she was aching for breath. Her arms clutched his shoulders tightly as they moved together, as gently as waves to shore. When she pulled back, he cupped her face, pushing back her hair. The desire in his gaze was like a drug.

Their bodies were slick with sweat as the air between them grew hot, and she felt the flames of desire burning beneath her skin. She stared into his eyes and he stared back. It was intimate. Too intimate. She wanted to hide. He could he see her. All of her.

She looked away first, heat flooding her face as her hips worked against him in little pulses, taking him in deeper. Sokka turned his head and kissed the inside of her arms, his lips and tongue trailing along the ridges of her old scars. She buried her face against his shoulder, her hand in his hair.

“I love you,” he whispered in her ear, so low she might have imagined it.

She kissed him again, just to stop the cry of pain that tightened in her chest. He felt the shiver in her body as she clutched him to her, but she knew he thought it was pleasure. And there was pleasure, but there was pain. Too much pain, and all of it in her heart.

They moved together, their bodies coming together as if in a dream. She cried out as he urged her back and forth, the drag of his cock in and out of her warm depths exquisite.

 _This is what it's supposed to be like_ , she thought with a sob. _This is what it should have been..._

But she wouldn't let her mind walk those paths. There was no room for nightmares, here in his arms. He chased them away. Nothing could touch her here but him.

Sokka's mouth worked at her neck, finding that spot below her ear that seemed to have a direct line to some secret heart of her. She cried out, gasping, clutching at him, working her hips back and forth to ease the ache that was growing deep within her.

His mouth sucked at her skin, over and over until she was a trembling mess. She surged against him and took him all of the way inside, so deep there was no telling where she ended and he began. An orgasm broke over her in a wave, and she clamped down on him, biting her lips to keep the scream from her mouth.

Sokka caught her mouth again, his hands grasping her hips. He lifted into her, moving her back and forth as her back arched. Her head went back and he caught her hair, keeping her there. His teeth scored her throat and she clutched his shoulders, too lost to do anything but hold on to him.

When he scooped his arm around her, withdrawing from her and laying her back on the bed, she just watched him through hooded eyes.

His hand smoothed down her center and dipped between her legs as he hovered over her. She cried out, lifting off of the bed as his fingers eased inside of her, pressing deep into her throbbing muscles.

“Sokka...” She didn't recognize her own voice. She sounded like a creature made wholly of desire. Sokka's eyes flashed and he kissed her, his fingers gently rubbing inside of her, against some wonderful, wild place that ached and throbbing at his attention.

Her thighs quivered and clamped on his hand. Sokka let her mouth go, bracing himself over her. And he watched as he brought her to the brink again. She came around his fingers, with a hot flutter deep inside of her, and a wet gush that had her head driving back into the bed, her shaking thighs clamping on his hand.

He didn't let her come down. His knee nudged her thighs open and then he was inside of her again, taking her in long, unhurried strokes. She wrapped her arms around him, her legs, her heart. She held him to her as closely as she dared.

His hips worked against hers, rough and deep. His hand caught her under one knee and his pace steadily quickening. Their lips met and she kissed him, hard, pleasure spiking through her, circling and tightening in her aching body.

She lifted into him, taking him as he took her. Sokka groaned her name and buried his face in her neck, his weight settling atop her, holding her there, as if he knew she might fly away. She clutched at him, at his working spine as he took her again and again, until her cries pierced the air, breathy and desperate. Sokka kissed her, swallowing the sounds against his lips, even as his own moans rumbled through his chest.

She came again, this time with such a rush she felt dizzy, spinning out into a blissful void that felt as if it had no end. Her entire body seemed to be on fire, each nerve singing as pleasure and desire went supernova deep within her. Her body clamped on Sokka's and his hips jerked against hers, rough and fast.

Then he cried out her name, groaning as he stilled inside of her. She felt him come inside of her with a hot burst, and the throb of his flesh deep within her was like a second heartbeat. She lifted into him, taking him in greedy little thrusts as Sokka breathed against her neck, his entire body trembling over top of hers.

A breath left him and he stilled, pushing her down until their bodies were locked. Azula's eyes drifted closed and for a long moment, she was content to stay like that, lost in the bliss of her racing heart, of Sokka's hot, hard body pressing against hers, inside of her.

She threaded her hand through his hair and he lifted his head, staring at her. He pulled out of her, but he didn't move away. They lay like that, just looking at one another, for what felt like hours. He caressed her face, running his fingers up and down her sides.

She turned her face into his palm and kissed it. “I love you, Sokka.”

His throat bobbed as the words left her, completely unbidden, and now it was too late to take it back. She didn't even know if she would have if she could have. There was no use lying, no use running from it. She loved him. It was the only truth she knew.

His smile was simmering, and it made pain and pleasure ache through her chest.

“I love you too.”

He kissed her and she lost herself in it, kissing him back as hard as she dared, holding onto him for as long as she could. Sokka eventually moved off of her, and she curled up into the warm shelter of his arms, as she had done every night for months. He grasped the blankets and pulled them over them, then put his arms around her.

She rested her palm over his chest, feeling the steady beat of his heart. Sokka put his hand over hers.

“What's real?”

“You're real,” she whispered and closed her eyes, burrowing into his shoulder. Sokka's lips grazed her forehead as he relaxed into her. Sleep slowly slipped over him, but she wouldn't let sleep take her. She lay in his arms, watching him sleep, tears in her eyes.

She knew what she had to do, but she didn't want to do it.

Just before dawn, she slipped out of the bed. Sokka's hand trailed along her naked flesh, and then dropped away, but he didn't wake. She had loved him too well.

She bit down on a sob and grabbed the robe she had discarded on the floor, throwing it on with shaking fingers. She slipped out of the room just as tears poured down her cheeks, scalding her.

Blinded, she stumbled back to Hakoda's other guest room and got dressed as quickly as she could, putting on the borrowed clothing Malina had given her. All of her things had burned at Sokka's.

She grabbed the letter she'd written before coming to his room, and went out the door as fast as she could, only to find herself face to face with Sokka's father.

Hakoda was standing in the hallway, arms crossed over his chest. She met his gaze and saw something knowing in his eyes. As if he knew what she had been doing tonight.

Then again, it was a small enough house. He might have. She felt her face go red, but refused to look away.

“He'll follow you.”

“No, he won't,” she said and thrust the letter at him. He took it gently. “Tell him I don't want him to follow me. He'll listen to you.”

“I don't think he will. He loves you. Love can be very unreasonable.”

“I know. I love him too, but I... I'm afraid I'll hurt him, eventually. You were right about me. I'm dangerous.”

“Yes, I think you are dangerous,” Hakoda said grimly, “but not to my son. I think you would do anything to protect him, and he you.”

“I wish I could believe that,” she said bitterly and turned away from him. “Just... Just tell him I'm sorry. He won't understand. Tell him not to come after me, please. If he comes after me I know I'll never let him go.”

“Are you sure you're making the right decision?”

“No,” she said, and her voice cracked. Hakoda didn't say anything. He just watched her walk away. She left through the front door, and the cold morning air slapped her face. She was too heartbroken to summon her chi, and she felt the cold in every bit of her bones.

The sun was just beginning to rise, but it was a muted sunrise, gray and cold. As she forced her feet in the direction of the airship, she felt tears scorch her cheeks. Snow fell around her in angry little flakes, stinging her skin.

She felt numb and distant, and she left little shattered pieces of her heart behind her, like breadcrumbs in the snow, as she walked away.


	9. Coda

Sokka rolled over, drifting out of a contented, dreamless sleep. He groped for the familiar warmth beside him in the bed, but his hand came up empty. He started awake, and stared at the pillow beside him, confused for a long moment.

The night rushed back over him, Azula's taste still clinging to his skin, his lips, in his mouth, his sheets. His sleepiness faded and he sat up with a start.

“Azula?”

But the room was empty. The dim light of a snowy dawn filtered in through the little window. The scent of her, of sex, lingered in the room, but it was a ghost.

Sharp fear stabbed at him, and he knew. He _knew_ that she hadn't just left the room. He knew that she was running.

“NO!” Sokka growled, grabbing his discarded pants. He pulled them on, hitting the door with his shoulder and spilling out into the hallway. “AZULA!”

He heard his father call his name, but he ignored him, running flat out toward the door, barefooted, bare-chested, his hair still tangled from her hands. The cold was a shock as he rammed the door open in his haste, the snow stinging on his feet, and slapping at his face in angry little handfuls.

He ignored the cold, ignored his father calling his name, ignored everything but the panic in his chest, in his heart. He ran through the snow, slipping and sliding on ice and across frozen hummocks that bruised and bit at him as he ran in the direction of Iroh's airship.

Even as he ran, he saw it lift into the air, rising over the sleepy, snow-covered rooftops, buffeted by the winds coming in off of the sea.

“AZULA!” he screamed, stumbling in the snow. He skidded, landing face first, and felt pain in his shoulder. Cursing, he scrambled to his numb feet and ran after the airship, but still it rose higher. “AZULA! Please—NO!”

He broke into the landing field, the wind blasting at him, stinging him with hard pebbles of ice-laden snow. Shielding his face, he skidded to a halt beneath the airship.

“AZULA!”

With the sound of fire and air rushing into the balloon, it lurched forward like some lugubrious bird of prey, the balloon stark red against the sullen gray skies. It drifted higher, away from him, and toward the bay.

“AZULA! Dammit!” A sob broke his lips and he clasped his hands to his head, grinding his teeth.

He saw her then, in the back window of the carriage. Her face was pale in the gray light, and there were tears on her face. He pleaded with her, chasing after the balloon as it rose ever higher and farther away. And as he watched, she shook her head, lifting her hand and placing it on the glass, palm out.

He knew what that meant.

Sokka stopped dead in the snow, bitterness flooding his mouth. His hand drifted to his chest and he spread his palm over his heart. His breath came in great gulps, tears burning his eyes, the cold biting at his exposed flesh, but he didn't care.

“I'm _real,_ dammit. Just come back,” he said as the balloon rose over the bay, and he lost sight of her in the window. “FUCK!”

He buried his face in his hands, a million plans to chase after her, to make her see reason, to understand why, came bursting into his mind.

“Sokka!”

It was his father, who was running toward him with a coat and boots in his hands. Sokka ignored him, watching the red speck of the balloon as it drifted ever farther away. Hakoda came up beside him, his breath puffing into the air.

“Put these on. _Now._ I thought I raised you to have more sense than to run outside without boots,” he said, shoving the shoes at Sokka, who took them and shoved them onto his numb, aching feet. Then he snatched the coat from his father and threw it on, his face contorting with anger.

“This is your fault!” he snapped at Hakoda, who stepped back a little. “You treated her like she was some...some _criminal_ and... She never would have done this if it hadn't been for you!”

“I tried to talk her out of it, actually. She had her reasons, and she doesn't want you to follow her.”

“Where is Rian's airship?” Sokka said, ignoring that last bit, but Hakoda thrust something against his chest, stopping him. Sokka took it unthinkingly. “What...?”

“She asked me to give it to you.”

“There's nothing in here that will stop me from following her,” he said adamantly. “Nothing!”

“I'm not trying to stop you, Sokka. You're a grown man. You can make your own decisions. Just as she can.”

“You don't want me to be with her.”

“I want you to be happy.”

“She makes me happy. Dad, I love her. I want... I was going to ask her—” But he couldn't get out the words. He choked on them as he looked up at the sky. The airship was a distant red speck, born on the winds of the bay, rising high into the swirling cloud cover. Even as he watched, the clouds enveloped it, swallowing the little red dot whole.

He felt sick all of a sudden, his shoulder aching, pain in the arrow wound in his leg. He passed a hand over his face.

“Could you leave me alone?”

Hakoda gripped his shoulder and met his eyes, looking grim. “Whatever you do, son, I want you to know I'm sorry if I made difficulties between you. It wasn't my intention, but...” He drifted off, and his mouth set grimly.

Sokka didn't say anything, watching as his father walked away across the empty, snow-driven field. Sokka looked down at the letter in his hands. His fingers were shaking, and not from the cold, when he opened it.

> _Sokka,_
> 
> _I know I took the coward's way out, but it was the only way I could make myself leave. Please don't follow me. I know you might anyway, but I hope you don't. I need to do this._
> 
> _I'm sick, Sokka. You have done so much to help me these past few months, but the nightmares haven't stopped. The panic attacks haven't stopped. The hallucinations won't go away. Not unless I go somewhere where they can help me, where they can figure out what's wrong with me. I'm tired of being afraid. I'm tired of getting lost inside my own fears, my own head. I need control, real control, or I'm going to hurt someone. It may be you next time. It almost was before, and I can't risk that again._
> 
> _If I ever hurt you, I wouldn't be able to live with myself. You mean more to me than anything in this world. I need to protect you, the way you've protected me. So I'm leaving, before it's too late for me to leave. Before I love you too much._
> 
> _And I do love you. I've wanted to tell you so many times, but I couldn't. I thought pretending that I didn't would make it easier for me to leave you, in the end. I've always known this wouldn't last, even if I wanted it to. I tried to push you away too, to make it easier, but it never worked. You were too stubborn._
> 
> _That's the worst part of this. I love you and you love me, and every fairy tale tells me this should have a happy ending, but it doesn't, and it won't. Happy endings don't happen to people like me._
> 
> _But, for a while, you made me believe that they could. You loved me, when I couldn't love myself, when I didn't even know how. You made me realize that I wasn't some broken toy, used up and unfixable. You made me realize I was real again, that I didn't have to be that girl from the forest. You reminded me that I'm strong. You trusted me. You made me laugh. You made me feel like a woman._
> 
> _You made me love you, Sokka, and I will never forget that. You were real. We were real, even for a little while. It was real. But I need you to let me go now. Please don't follow me. If you love me, you'll me go._
> 
> _Your Princess, Always_

Sokka read the letter twice more, until he couldn't read it any longer. His eyes burned. He wanted to follow. He wanted to chase her across the world. He wanted to make her see reason.

He stood in the snow instead, his heart breaking as the wind pushed at his hair, drying the tears on his cheeks. He slowly folded the letter, tucked it into his pocket, and wiped at his eyes. Misery lay over him like a cloak.

“I was going to ask you to marry me,” he whispered to the wind, but it snatched the words and flung them away as if they were meaningless. Sokka turned away from the bay, away from the cruel, empty skies, and walked home.

_(end)_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow, sorry for the emotion bomb, but the bright side is that this is NOT the end of Sokka and Azula's relationship. You think I'm just going to leave it there? Pfffft. Azula may not believe in happy endings, but this Madame does.
> 
> I'm already working on a sequel (which will conclude the Smoke Demons series) called “With Or Without You.” It'll focus on both Zuko/Suki and Sokka/Azula in equal measure and will be about Zuko and Suki's wedding (plus some other stuff! Angst! Drama! Sex! Treason! Katara finding out Sokka and Azula had sex in her bed!)
> 
> No idea when I'll start posting it. February-ish....hopefully. I have a couple other stories I want to work on first before I truly tackle that beast, as it's gonna be another long one and I don't want to split my focus. My brain is an unruly bag of cats, which is why it takes me forever to finish stories.
> 
> Anyway, thanks for reading and reviewing! I appreciate it so much!


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